Surviving on Your Own
by CaseyCuervo
Summary: A little over a year after the Eve's War, the pilots are trying to survive during peacetime. They all struggle in their own way. Can they reconnect and save each other from themselves? Or will they destroy their own lives. (Yaoi, and het content) revised/updated chapters. Chaps 31-35 new as of 11/02/13.
1. 16 months & 9 days

Disclaimer: I do not own any part or character from Gundam Wing AC.

Rating: M

Pairings: 2xH, 2x many OC's, 4x OC, 4xD, 1x OC's eventual 1x2/2x1, 3x4/4x3, 5xS or 5xR haven't decided yet, implied 6x9. And I may change certain aspects of of the series and Endless Waltz to fit my story.

Warning: Language, sexual situations, het, yaoi, lemon, lime, drugs, alcohol, addiction of many varieties, mention of past rapes/prostitution, date rape,

**Notes: This is a dark angst filled fic. It is going to cover a lot of stuff that may make some readers uncomfortable. Please read the warning list carefully. Warnings will be added to the warning list as this story progresses. Each chapter is a different characters POV, it will mainly alternate between the POV's of the 5 G-boys. I will not state who it is, it will be very obvious. I will also use the POV of a minor character if I feel it's necessary. Each block of 5 chapters will be from the POV of one of the gundam pilots. So chapters 1-5 are as they read, Duo, Quatre, Wufei, Trowa, and then Heero. And each chapter order rotates around, never in the same order but always on the same timeline. With that stated, I plan on uploading 5 chapters at a time. I'll do my best to give each character equal attention and length in chapters and not favor one or two over the rest. Even though Trowa and Wufei are proving to be a pain in my ass already.**

Themes I'm trying to incorporate: self acceptance, letting go of ones past, forgiving oneself, accepting ones own short comings, acceptance of failure (stuff will be added to this list, and feedback would be greatly appreciated.)

Summary: A little over a year after the Eve's War, the pilots are trying to survive during peacetime. They all struggle in their own way. Can they reconnect and save each other from themselves? Or will they destroy their own lives.

* * *

Surviving on Your Own

16 months and 9 days

Well, it's been sixteen months and nine days since I blew up my ol' buddy. Peace seems ta be doing just fine. No upheavals calling me, or the other pilots back into battle. Except for maybe Wufei, that is, if he's still with the Preventers. I really wouldn't know, we haven't stayed in touch. I haven't heard from any of them since we parted ways. I see Quat on the telly sometimes. He appears to be doing well. And of course Lena, Miss Vice Foreign Minster is always on the news. Somtimes I check out her guard detail, but I never do see Heero standing behind her.

Me, I'm killin' time, working with Hilde at Schbeiker's Salvage. It's fucking titillating work, obviously. Sometimes I wonder why I came back to the dump that is L2. I guess I came back for her. It's not like I had anyone else, or _anywhere_ else to go. And I like her, a lot. Which is why she's my girlfriend now. She's got decent tits, and a great ass. I'm half hard just thinking about it. She's got a cute face too.

We became an item a few months after I arrived. Really started after night of drunken fucking on her living room couch. Mmm, we do that a lot, the fucking that is. But now she's starting to want more from me. Poor girl, I don't have anything more to offer ya. I wish I did. Wish I loved her too, but I don't.

Tonight, I think I'll go to a bar alone. Drown my boredom in a bottle. Fake I.D.'s are a fuckin' Godsend.


	2. Driving Patience

Surviving on Your Own

Driving Patience

If I had known that taking over my father's business was going to be the most redundant, boring job ever, I would have left it to my sisters. This fucking job drives on my patience, and I have a lot of patience. It's a damn virtue, right? But all the meetings, bickering, ass-kissing, and endless paperwork makes me want to rip my hair out and scream at the top of my lungs. Obviously, it makes me a much more cynical and irritated person.

I guess apart of me misses the battles. Don't get me wrong, I don't miss the killing. The adrenaline, the rush, is what I crave. I love this peace, it warms my heart. I'm just not satisfied with my life in it, yet. Ha, I can hear my father's voice telling me I'm not a true pacifist. And he's right, I never was. I felt the need to fight, and did so. Even when it hurt. And then the Zero System almost consumed me. I killed Trowa, or so I thought. Hmm, I wonder how he is. How they all are. I hope they're happier than me.

The door to my office opens and my secretary comes in, "Mister Winner, your three o'clock meeting in room 203 on floor 7 is about to commence."

"Thank you, Denise. I'll be there in just a moment."

She closes the door as I sign out of my online poker game. There goes twenty-five thousand bucks I'll never see again. Oh well, I can afford it anyways.


	3. So-Called Heroism

Surviving on Your Own

So-Called Heroism

Standing in conference room B, on the 14th floor of Preventer Head Quarters in Brussels, I am about to be awarded my third plaque for "heroism". I am to receive this for something I did on my last mission. This is bullshit. I did my damn job. Nothing heroic about that.

Commander Une is congratulating me. Yes, thank you, you insane cunt. She hands me the plaque. It's just another item to take up space on my office walls. I shake hands with all my superiors that are present in the room, feign gratitude, and make my way out the door.

I don't need this crap. Medals, badges, and plaques telling me what a great warrior I am on the front of the battle lines. I'll never achieve greatness. I have too many mistakes and fuck ups in my past to ever be great. I am a treasonous traitor really.

Stomping my way towards my office, I spy Private Biggs. "Great job, Lieutenant Change!" He commends.

"Get the fuck out of my way," I snarl back. Little shit needs to try harder to not put our other men in the line of danger.

Entering my office, I hang the plaque besides the others. All stating my so-called heroism. Fucking joke.


	4. Apathetic Me

Surviving on Your Own

Apathetic Me

I'm finding myself more silent than ever these days. I've always been a quiet person, but now I just don't really want to talk. Ever. Catherine's worried, but she's also the only one who's noticed. I can't seem to find the will to care, or soothe her nerves. Seeing the pain of my silence causes her makes me want to recede further into myself. When did I become so apathetic?

I spend most of my time in my trailer, if I'm not working. I do what I can. I help set up, and take down the circus. I feed the lions. I do my bit for the audience. But in my free time I lay in bed, like now. With the TV on, but muted. I don't want to hear it, just see it.

Quatre's on again. He looks good. Out of all my former comrades, I miss him the most. It's kinda funny. Apathetic me, missing the most _empathetic_ person from our group. I wonder about them sometimes. I'm sure they're fine though.

It's dusk now, time to get dressed and ready for my performance. Whoopdee-fucking-doo.


	5. Unneeded Robot

Surviving on Your Own

Unneeded Robot

There's an office joke going around that I'm a robot. I guess it's because my face never shows the emotions I'm feeling "on the inside". I tend to make people feel uncomfortable with my mere presence. So yeah, I freak people out. Because of this, I'm fairly secluded in my dark office. Fine by me, I don't need anybody anyways.

I work at the Preventers Head Quarters on L1, in the Computer Science department. Hacking, creating programs, security systems, tracking maybe terrorist, making sure no one hacks us, is what I do. I do this so well, that there's only two other people in this department. Before I came they had a team of ten people doing what we do. My two other "teammates" share the office next to mine. It gets a little dull, and if I'm being perfectly honest, a little lonely as well. Never thought I would actually miss company, or being part of a functional team.

When I swore to never kill again, I meant it. Which is why I am not an agent. I did train Relena's security detail before I came here though. She's in good hands now. She doesn't need me. I am obsolete. See, I have a sense of humor. Robot joke. Pfft. I would have stayed on as her bodyguard, but that means carrying a gun. Which I still do. But not with the intent of using it. I just can't seem to let it go.

From my post, I can get access to and view all agent files. It looks like Wufei has received another award. Good for him, he's once of our best men. Besides Wufei, the only other pilot I have the pleasure of knowing what they're up to is Quatre. Being CEO of one of the galaxies most profitable businesses puts him in the lime light occasionally. I assume Trowa is with the circus still. And that Duo is still at that salvage yard. I'm sure they aren't as dejected as me.

Sitting in my office, I take notice that its two thirty in the afternoon, and I have finished my work for the day. I'm suppose to stay until five. What to do now? Fucking nothing.


	6. Red Rage

Surviving on Your Own

Red Rage

My favorite place in HQ is the gym. I can vent all my frustrations out in here. It would be nice to have an equal sparring partner, but I have yet to find one. Plus, most people stay away from me. I'm known around this place for my temper. My superiors tell me I need to stop snapping at people, and to stop scaring off each partner I get. Whatever, it's their fault for not giving me an adequate partner. I like to work alone anyways.

Slamming my fists into the punching bag will do for now. I can launch my most vicious kicks at it as well. I'm drenched in sweat. I can feel the tension leaving my body with each strike I make. It never lasts long enough though. The stress always comes back. I'm getting tired, but I don't want to stop. If I stop then I go back to my apartment. The only thing to do there is sleep and eat. And sleeping is a waste. Not to mention the nightmares.

I don't have fucking PTSD. I don't jump when things go boom. My night terrors are more like memories and reminders of all my mistakes. Of the people I wronged, of the people I was supposed to stand side by side with. It shouldn't bother me this much anymore. It's not like they're around anyways. They're all up in space and I'm here, dirt side.

Finally giving the punching bag a break, I move into the locker room. Shower and change and leave. But as I'm dressing into my civilian clothes I over hear a conversation.

"Did you hear about Lieutenant Chang?"

"Yeah, he took down that huge drug lord in Glasgow."

"He also saved three of his of men and took a bullet for one too!"

"I think he got another heroism award for it. Ya know, putting your ass on the line to save your own men will getcha that. And if anyone deserves that kind of award it's him."

The two gossip girls leave the locker room and I'm left in deafening silence. Their statements infuriate me. They don't know me! Or what I've done! And all I did was my fucking job on that mission! What's so damn great about that?!

Turning around, my fists begin to fly into a closed locker. Flesh meeting metal, thudding as I pull back and hit again. They don't fucking know me!

Pulling back, my knuckles are bloody, the locker is a dented mess, and all I feel is this red consuming rage.


	7. Sleep Rarely Comes

Surviving on Your own

Sleep Rarely Comes

"Hey Trowa, you wanna come have dinner with me in my trailer tonight? You're looking a little thin," Cathy asks me after we finish our bit of entertainment for the masses.

I smirk and shake my head, no.

"Why don't you ever talk anymore Trowa? What's gotten into you? I'm worried sick because all you seem to do is mope around!" She's mad. I almost feel bad. Almost. I just stare at her with an unreadable blank face.

"If something's the matter then why don't you tell me? You know I'm here for you, right?" She looks like she's about to cry. But that's the problem, nothing's the matter.

I nod.

Spinning on her heels, she marches off. I head back to my trailer. The TV is still on and muted. The only channel I ever watch is channel 4, all day news. Looks like Quatre's on again. He looks very handsome in his three-piece suit. I bet it's quit expensive. He has his hair slicked back for his television appearances, but I doubt he keeps it like that all the time. It makes him look older, more dignified.

It touch him on the screen. I miss you. My fingers itch to turn on the volume so I can hear your voice, but that will only make me miss you more. Instead I turn the TV off. I think I'll lie down now, but sleep rarely comes these days.


	8. Classy Stall

Surviving on Your Own

Classy Stall

The bar is bummmmpppiinn tonight! Fuck yeah, I knew this was a good idea. I've finished my third margarita, and I feel fan-fucking-tastic! Did I tell you I really love tequila? This place has got a decent dance floor too. Bumping and grinding is really the only way I know how to dance. And it looks that way for everyone else too!

I'm currently dry humping a cute little blonde girl. She has an uh-mazing rack! Double D's, bring that shit over to me please, and thank you. Blondie grinds her cute little rump back onto my crotch and I grip her yummy hips to keep encouraging her. I let my hand travel down the length of her very short black miniskirt. Her tan thigh is nice and smooth. Pressing closer to me, Blondie bounces that butt on my covered boner. She's loving the attention. I think I'll give her more. No one can see in this dark dingy place anyways. And it's not like we're the only ones doing this.

I slide my right hand from her thigh to the inside. Blondie opens her legs for me. Oh honey, you know what I want, doncha? I work my fingers under her skirt, making contact with the soft fabric of her panties. Oh boy, she's warm and _damp_. Heh, slut. I work two fingers over her clothed clit while my left arm snakes around her, and I grab one of those big boobies. Blondie rolls her head back on my shoulder, and I feel more than hear her moan. Mmm, yes give me more to play with. My lips come down to nip and lick her now exposed neck. She's salty from sweat, but I don't mind. She slithers a hand between us and grabs my cock as much as she can through my tight black jeans.

She groans and I can feel it vibrate through her throat that I'm necking on. Ah yes, my lil slut, my huge dick has your name written all over it. Go on and play. And hey, I'm not kiddin' when I say it's huge. Just shy of nine freakin' inches! Does having a big dick lead to retardedly high libido? I think it does, at least for me.

Me and Blondie keep our little "dance" going for the rest of the song, until some beefed up freak yanks her away from me. Looks like she's gotta boyfriend. Bad Blondie, bad! But really, look who's talking, right? The dude punches me in the stomach and calls me a fag. Pppfftt, good one. And that punch was nothing. I've taken worse, much worse, courtesy of Heero Motherfuckin' Yuy.

I make my way back over to the bar, and down two shots of delicious tequila. There are eyes on me, I can feel it. Paranoia rears its nasty head as I look around cautiously. Well, well, well, another suitor? This ones actually one of the many bartenders of this fine establishment. Cute too. Pretty hazel eyes, full lips, and beautiful black hair. I wink at 'im. Bartender smiles, walks out from behind the bar, and with his head motions for me to follow him. Yes, sir!

I follow him into the dark men's room and into the last stall. My hearts racing, I haven't fooled around with a guy in way too long. No words are spoken between us, they aren't need now. This dudes tall, like 6'5. But hey I'm 5'10, got a few inches since the end of the war. I turn around and throw him "a look" over my shoulder. Yeah, he knows what I want.

He thankfully pulls a condom out from a pocket. This would have ended violently if he tried to bareback me. Not uh, no one does that. While he's tearing the wrapper with his teeth, I undo my pants and push them down mid-thigh. No underwear, thank you Heero for showing me the wonderful world of going commando. There's no way that guy wore anything under those spandex.

Bartender has his dick out and condom on. He spits on his hand and works a few digits into me. Thanks for the foreplay, but I really don't need it. It's a habit for me to finger fuck myself with three fingers as I jerk off. Which I shamelessly do everyday. Retardedly high libido, remember?

He replaces his fingers with his dick. Mmm, feels good. He's not that big though. Whatever, beggars can't be choosers. He has to bend at the knees to fuck me. Which he does so, with quick rough thrusts, just the way I like it. I grab hold of my braid as I lean on to the wall of the classy bathroom stall were in. I jerk myself off with my free hand. Uh, yes, I fuckin' needed this. Bartender is grunting in my ear, and I can tell this motherfucker is making this as quick as possible. And then, it's over and he's out. He came, I came on the wall, heh. He leaves the stall first while I'm still pulling my pants up. Time to head home. I hope Hilde isn't up.


	9. Kleptomania

Surviving on Your Own

Kleptomania

With everything done, I'm literally twiddling my thumbs in my lap as I slouch at my desk. I don't think I've ever slouched before. It feels weird. How did Duo sit like this all the time?

A knock on my open office door, it's Randal, one of my "teammates".

"Hey, Heero?" He asks.

"Yes?"

"Uh, could you.." He pauses and stares at me. "Nevermind." And he shuffles away.

What, is there a "don't ask me for help" sign on my forehead. Maybe I'm glaring without realizing it. Probably that. I rub my hands across my face, massaging my brow and forehead. I need to stop being so unconsciously intimidating, or else no one will ever speak to me again. Maybe that's not such a bad thing. I wish I had something to do. Someone who needed something from me. Maybe Relena will get kidnapped again, and I can come out of "retirement". But that's unlikely. This peaceful world doesn't need weapons like me anymore. No need for broken soldiers.

Well no ones coming here, so I might as well explore a little. I've worked here for months and have only been to my office, the gym, and Commander Reyes' office, he's our L1 HQ commander. Une likes to keep tabs on me via him. I've got access to everywhere in this place, so I'm going to check shit out.

After meandering through HQ's weapons depot - yes that was my first stop, big shocker, I know - I walked through the cafeteria. People who recognized me and know me were stunned to see me there since I always bring my lunch and eat in my office. I left quickly.

Hmm, three forty-five now, where else to go. There's the evidence room in the basement, and then there are floors, on top of floors of offices. I am not going to walk aimlessly through other people's work space.

So I make my way down to the basement via elevator. Get out, walk past the guard while flashing my I.D. badge, it shows the highest clearance level there is guard doesn't say anything, and neither do I.

This place is huge. I roam through the aisle until I come up to a very large industrial furnace. This is the thing we use to burn drugs that are left over after a criminal case has gone through the courts. There's crates and barrels of shit. I don't even know what some of this stuff is. Contrary to popular belief, my training only ever involved increasing my physical strengths, and being immunized by any and all truth serums. Herb looking things, pills, and powders are stacked him front of me. Looks like they're planning on burning soon, like now. I can hear footsteps coming.

And then I do something stupid. I grab a baggie full of something that's closest to me, shove it in my jacket pocket, high tale it and leave. What the fuck am I doing? My mind is racing. It's like I just watched someone else grab that bag of, whatever it is, because I sure as hell wouldn't! I don't do drugs! Maybe I'm turning into a kleptomaniac. I hear people do that when they're bored and think they can get away with it. Which I am. Great, so I'm a thief. I think my emotions, bored, lonely, whatever they are, are finally getting the better of me.

This thing in my pocket is burning a hole, and my heart is pounding harder than when I workout, and my palms are sweaty. Adrenaline, I've missed you. I don't dare remove the bag from my pocket until I'm safe in my office. There are cameras everywhere and I have no idea what I snatched. Again, I scream at myself mentally, WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!

Finally at my desk, door closed, I pulled out my stolen item. It's a baggie full of, what looks to be, smaller baggies inside full of white powder. Shit, I think I stole cocaine. Turning the bag over there's a label. _Heroin_.


	10. The Dream

Surviving on Your Own

The Dream

After another fun-filled day of meetings and endless paperwork, I find myself sitting in my way too large bedroom in my much too big estate. I've nestled myself in the middle of my California King size bed, and I'm a little more than pissed off.

I've got my laptop with me, and I was up in my online poker match by thirty thousand bucks, and then I fucking lost it. Plus another eighteen thousand just trying to come back up. High stakes poker. It's usually more fun than this. When I'm winning. I also lost nine grand on a flippin' horse. The race was somewhere in Europe. The horse had good stats! Whatever, today has been shit anyways.

I can almost hear Duo chastising me for loosing so much money. Hm, I grunt out loud. They all have war funds they stole from the Alliance, Oz, and Romefeller. I'm sure they're well off now and don't have to work if they don't want to. I didn't need to steal money. Lucky enough to be born into it, along with all the problems it brings.

I think I'll just jerk off and go to bed. I really don't watch porn often, but it helps to get the job done. Soft core stuff, nothing weird. I'm not into kinky stuff, I guess. *Unless you consider paying more attention to the man than the woman kinky*. Shut up! I hate that little nagging voice. It's the same one that speaks from my "space heart". Fuck that, I'm not fucking gay.

I close my eyes tightly and a low growl escapes my throat. Fuck this, forget jerking off, it can wait until morning.

{ Strong hands are soothing over my skin. Uh, they feel so good. They move all over my body, leaving me a mess of over stimulated senses.

"Please more," I hear my voice say.

I can't see the person who's touching me. A finger presses to my lips and I hear the person shush me.

Those hands, those beautiful hands are touching me _there_. Oh, it's too much, feels too good. I'm close, I'm almost there.

"Please," I whimper again. Pleasure floods my body as I climax.

A face comes into view, green eyes gaze down softly at me. "Quatre..." He whispers. }

"Uuuhhh!" A scream rips from my lungs. Where am I? Looking around I see I'm in my room, alone. Sitting upright in bed, I'm panting and sweating, and there's a sticky sensation between my legs.

Fuck, not again! I haven't had this dream in weeks! Why now?

I'm shaking as I pull my knees up to my chest and wrap my arms around myself.

Fuck this! I'm not gay!


	11. I Like My Name

Surviving on Your Own

I Like My Name

It's been twenty days since I last spoke out loud. Catherine's been avoiding me since after our one-sided confrontation last week. She wants me to open back up, but that's just not going to happen anytime soon. I'll do so when I'm ready.

Looking in the mirror, I notice I've lost some of my muscle mass. Now I'm just tall and skinny. I used to work out for a while after the war, but then I stopped caring about that too. I've still got some muscle though, I'm not a twig. Gotta have muscle to be able to launch myself and flip through the air, balance on high wires, and standing completely stock still while having knives thrown at me. Remaining completely motionless is no easy feat.

I blame most of the loss of my muscle on my ever so dwindling appetite. I just never feel all that hungry anymore. And when I do, it doesn't take a whole lot to make me full. So I basically eat the bare minimum of each food group in order to stay healthy. But I've stopped eating meat all together. It weighed in my gut like a ton of bricks, so I don't eat it anymore.

Looking closer at my reflection I see bags forming under my eyes. Weird, I don't feel tired. Another thing I almost never do. Fucking sleep. I lay in bed at night, in the dark, with my eyes close but sleep never takes me under. And if it does, it's for four hours at most. And when I wake up, it feels like I haven't slept at all. I'm not stupid, I know I'm showing all the symptoms for acute insomnia. But it's just a phase, it'll end soon on its own.

Placing my mask on I take one last look in the narrow full length mirror and leave my trailer. It's show time.

In the ring, Manager announces my name. A spotlight beams down on me. The audience oooh's and ahhh's as the find me high above the ground on the tightrope. I have no instruments to help me balance or any protection if I fall, this is all me. I twirl, flip, and glide across the rope, always landing back on it flawlessly. I hear gasps and cheers of encouragement coming from below. One more backwards aerial and I'll be at the end of the rope. As my feet make contact with the high wire again, my right foot slips.

I save myself from falling by placing all my weight and balance on my left foot. The fumble was so small that there's no surprised or shocked sounds from the audience. They didn't see it, good. That probably means my fellow performers didn't see it either. But still, that shocked my senses and a good amount of fear took hold of me. I'm breathing harder, and my heart is beating with a heavy thud-dunk, thud-dunk. I can hear it in my ears.

Flipping down to the ground, I take a bow and the audience applauds. The ring goes black. I make my way to the back in the darkness and try to ease my shaken nerves. Cathy spy's me, and glares. Our knife and dagger gig is up after the next two performances.

By the time we're called up, I've recollect myself. I'm fine now. I take my place at the board, stretch my arms out, and wait. The first dagger lands five centimeters from the left side of my face. The second is the same only on my right. Third dagger, too close to my throat for comfort, but I don't flinch. Another to the other side of my neck, and the last at the top of my head. Damn she must be furious, she never uses all five knives to frame my head. The audience cheers and claps. The lights go down.

We head backstage and I make a b-line for my trailer. Behind me I hear someone say, "Cathy! What was that about? Some of those were way too close!" She doesn't reply and I can hear her stomping after me. I walk faster.

She runs, grabs my arm by the elbow and hauls me around to look at her, "I saw that fuck up of yours on the tightrope, Trowa!" She yells in my face. "You never mess up like that! What's the matter with you? You're more reserved and cold now than when we first met!"

Now I'm angry, I don't need this shit. I yank my arm out of her grasp and start to walk away, only to be restrained by her again. "I'm not done with you yet!" She yells louder. "You look like a fucking train wreck! You're too thin and you look like you haven't slept in a week. You need to take better care of yourself or you'll end up getting injured out there," she points back to the circus tent.

I glare at her, try to remove her hand, but she holds on with a death grip. "Fucking say something!" She slaps me across the face.

"Get the fuck OFF me!" I yell back in her face. My voice is horsed and my vocal cords ache instantly, but it does the trick. With Catherine's hands off me, I run to my trailer, leaving her shocked face behind. So much for twenty days without talking. Back to day zero.

Inside I drink a glass of water fast to sooth my throat. Tea would be better. I put a kettle on the tiny gas stove I have. Turning the TV on, I sit at the edge of my bed and stare. Anger is still holding my body tight. I take deep meditating breathes and will it away.

Relena's on, something about L2 , not sure what, the volumes not on. Seeing her bodyguards behind her, I smirk. They have the same posture as Heero and Wufei, stiff and rigid. Maybe I should join the Preventers and get the hell out of here. I could probably partner up with Chang. We got along alright, at least when he wasn't being an angry son of a bitch. All that self-righteousness and honor crap, it clouds his mind.

Laying down I close my eyes, but I'm not tired, so I allow my mind to wander. I had been so shocked when I found out Wufei had joined the Barton Foundation. At first I thought he was being a double agent like me. I signed up in order to bring them down from the inside. I soon came to realize that he was not fighting on our side anymore. And I eventually convinced him that I was a true member of as well.

He turned his back on us. We achieved the peace we had fought for, and then he went and joined the rebellion and Mariamaia Khushrenada's army. I don't hold a grudge against him for it though. He was stuck on the notion that without war, soldiers like him would be discarded. Or something like that. Heero brought him back to his senses. I'm pretty sure he was the only one who could do that. Him and Wufei are very similar and they respected each other, greatly.

Alright, enough reminiscing. The tea kettle is whistling. I pour the water into a mug and dip a camomile tea bag into it. It's suppose to help you get sleepy. Pfft, that's a lie, it never makes me tired. However, it does relax my throat more than the water did.

Hmm, maybe I should apologize to Cathy. She's only trying to help me, but I don't need her playing sister to me. Cathy thinks I could be her brother. Christ, she freakin wants to do DNA testing to see if I am Triton. The kids probably dead, but she won't let go of hope. And now she's got it in her head that I could be him.

I don't want to know. Either way it will be bad. If I'm not him - which is the more likely the case, like ninety-nine point nine percent sure I'm not her damn brother - she'll be disappointed, and probably stop giving a damn about me. And if I am Triton...well I don't know how I would react or handle that. The idea of having family scares me a bit. It just brings up so many "what-ifs". Plus, I don't want to change my name. I finally have one, and I'm not going to change it. Ever. I like the name Trowa.


	12. Going Nowhere

Surviving on Your Own

Going Nowhere

Every field agent has mandatory psych evaluations, no matter what rank we are. I fucking hate Dr. Swarnson. She persuades me into talking about my "problems", claiming it will help, but that's a farce.

Dr. Swarnson has been assigned to me special. She's one of the few people here who know I'm a former Gundam pilot. The Preventers are made up of a mish mosh of ex-Oz, Alliance, Romefeller, White Fang, and remnants of the Barton Foundation. All the enemies I ever fought against. So being one of the feared five Gundam pilots would not go over well with many of the people here. I'm sure some of them suspect I might be one of them. I'm the youngest Lieutenant, and the rest of the men and women in my rank are in their late twenties early thirties. I'm almost nineteen. Others recognize me from my time with the Barton Foundation, so the general belief is that I'm ex-Mariemai faction.

So Dr. Swarnson knows who I am, or was, and not by my choice. Une told her before I even had my first session. I would just bite my tongue and not say shit in my sessions, but if I do that then she won't clear me for duty. So here we are, in her office, again. She's staring at me from behind her glasses, waiting for me to speak first.

She sighs, "Wufei, we need to discuss your rage."

"Hn," stolen right out of Yuy's book.

Pinching the bridge of her nose in irritation she continues, "You have a tendency to fly off the handle, Chang. You've gone through," she shuffles through papers on her desk, "eight partners since you've been here. All requested for partner reassignment, and each had many complaints about you, and your temper." Dr. Swarnson pauses, waiting for me to say something. When I don't she concedes, "And you damaged Preventers property last week in the men's locker room."

"I paid for the repairs," I finally give in.

"Yes, you did. But we should discuss why you tried to destroy it in the first place," she responds. Don't talk down to me, bitch. I hate when she talks to me in that patronizing tone, like she's talking to a child.

"I was angry."

"Why were you angry?"

"Because, I just was."

"I'll ask again, why?"

"I over heard people talking about me. I didn't like what they said."

"What did they say?" She asks. I don't respond. "We really need to get to the bottom of this, Chang. I think you may need anger management," the good doctor suggests.

I take in a deep breath, "No." She tries to speak again, but I cut her off. "No, no. I do not need more therapy. And I'm sure as hell not going into group therapy."

"But your anger is getting in the way of your job now, Chang. It's either anger management or you take a vacation. We can, and will, put you on forced vacation if you don't go willing."

"You can't do that!" I shout. "There's no such thing as 'forced vacation'."

She smirks at me, she fucking _smirks_. "Yes there is," again it's the patronizing tone. "Our forced vacation policy is more like a sabbatical and it was put in place for agent like yourself. Some of you think you can work night and day, never take a sick day, and practically live here. We cannot have that, it adds stress to the body and mind to never take a break. This is to keep our agents at top performance."

Gritting my teeth and glaring daggers at her, I growl, "You've got to be fucking kidding me!"

"I kid you not," she makes a steeple with her fingers under her chin and asks, "So, which will it be? Anger management or vacation?"

I roll my eyes, "Neither."

"Sabbatical it is then," she says, and writes something down. My blood is beginning to boil. "This is not paid vacation, it is three weeks..." I see red around the edges of my vision as I begin to tremble. "We will also deactivate your I.D. so that you cannot sneak into the building..."

I launch myself from my chair. Dr. Swarnson gasps, and her eyes widen as I take two large strides to stand in front of her desk. Using both arms, I swipe everything from her desk onto the floor. The computer smashes into the carpet and the screen shatters, papers fly everywhere. I punch her desk, and it cracks. She can't do this! She can't do this to me! All I see is red.

I grab her by her slim biceps, she lets out a startled yelp. Hauling her up, and half way over her desk I begin to shake her like a rag doll. She screams.

I scream back, "I won't let you do this to me, you fucking bitch!" My grip tightens as I shake her violently.

The door opens with a _crack_! And two security personnel come running in, they force me to let go, and haul my ass out of there. They remove my gun and my badge and cuff me to a chair just outside Dr. Swarnson office.

Une magically appears out of no where and yells, "Lieutenant Chang Wufei, you are suspended without pay until further notice!" Fuck you.

Sitting cuffed to the chair, people swarming around me, going in and out of Dr. Swarnson's office, my actions dawn on me like a ton of bricks.

I put my hands on a woman. I put my hands on a woman in a violent way. I'm a disgrace to my clan, my rank, and my gender. I'm a pig. I don't deserve to call myself a man. My whole body shakes with shame and remorse. Someone kneels down in front of me and places a gentle hand on my shoulder. I don't look, I don't deserve to be touched so kindly. "Wufei..." She says.

I look into her blue eyes, "Sally," I whisper.

She looks so sad, "Tell me what happened, Wufei."

"I - I...I don't know," my answer is a stammer that's barely audible. I close my eyes so I don't have to see the concern and sympathy she has written across her face.

"Po, go check on Caroline. You two, escort Chang off the premises," Une's voice commands. Sally leaves, and I'm un-cuffed and forcefully hauled up. They clutch my arms and don't let go until they're shoving me out the door and into the underground parking lot.

Somehow I find my vehicle without looking up from my feet and climb in. I grasp the steering wheel loosely and rest my head against it. Fuck, what've I done? I can't believe I...I can't believe. I open the visor and look into my own eyes in the little mirror. My brown eyes (1) look scared. I'm so pathetic. Taking in a shaky breath, I start my SUV and leave.

I don't know where to go. Instead of making a left out of the parking garage I go right. I'm not going to my apartment just to sit there and sulk.

I end up driving aimlessly for hours. Going nowhere fast.

* * *

(1) No one has black eyes. I've read so many fics claiming that Wufei has black eyes. Wufei would look like a shark if he did. So I'm giving him dark, dark brown eyes.


	13. GoodByes and Violet Eyes

Surviving on Your Own

Goodbyes and Violet Eyes

I think I'm lost. I've been lost since the day I was born. I've said that before, to _her_. But I think I'm more lost now, especially after stealing that shit from work. That was a week ago.

After I got home that day, I shoved the bag I stole into the back of my top dresser drawer. I sat on my bed and glared at said dresser for a long while. I kept asking myself why I did that. Why would I be so reckless and unbelievably stupid now? I couldn't find an answer.

Eventually I moved, grabbed my laptop and dove into researching heroin. What is it? Why do people use it? What are the short and long-term effects on the body? How do people use it? How addictive is it?

After consuming all the information I gathered - most of which I already knew - I grabbed the baggie from its hiding place and marched into the restroom. Opening the toilet I had every intention of flushing my mistake out of my life, but I couldn't drop it. I just kept staring at in my hand. I ended up putting it back in the drawer.

I spent the next three days in my normal routine. Awake up, eat, go to work, exercise for an hour after work, come back to my apartment. I was nervous. I was expecting someone to notice that I had taken it, but no one ever came into my office. I didn't speak to anyone over those three days. But that's not really abnormal for me. I intimidate people thus, no one talks to me.

When I first came to the Preventers it was intentional. I didn't want anyone to bother me, I just wanted to work. If I was working then I didn't have to think about my lack of purpose, of the innocent people I kill. _She_ was the first of many innocent people to die by my hands. And when I showed remorse and sorrow for it, I was ordered back into training. It was then that they worked on dehumanizing me. It was kind of like what violent street gangs do to suck you into their click. They force you to do horrible things you don't want to do, and in the process you have to denounce your emotions, your heart, in order to live with what you've done. It's a brainwashing mechanism.

But what life am I left with now?

I was forced into the role of the "Perfect Soldier", and I became that to the best of my abilities. They made me very efficient in that role, so much so that now I don't really how to be anything else. But there's no need for soldiers now, we fought for peace and got it. And I've given up the gun, metaphorically. I don't want to be a soldier anymore. Maybe I should have carried out my final order. I was to terminate myself once I was confident wars would be over. But I wanted to live, and in order to do so, I need to find away back to being human again. I need to feel again.

The others helped me feel. Being with them and working alongside them brought me back a little, also believing in what we were fighting for helped with that too. But we're not in touch with each other anymore, or maybe they're just not in contact with me. I wish Duo had kept his promise. As we were all splitting up, and I was leaving with Relena, Duo cornered me while I was alone. He hugged me tightly and whispered, "I'll see you soon, okay Heero?" Well maybe that wasn't exactly a promise, but still. I waited for sometime and once it became clear he wasn't going to contact me I stopped anticipating It.

But it's been over a year now, almost a year and a half, and I couldn't, or wouldn't, make any connections with other people around me. And now that I want to, I don't know how. Not to mention I pushed everyone away when I first got here. I should have just posted a sign to my office door, "Gundam Pilot 01", then even my commander would have left me alone.

Anyways, after having that shit in my house for three days, I took it out of the drawer again. Every time I was in my apartment, I could feel the presence of it there, and my curiosity was getting the better of me. Without really thinking, I took the baggie and my first aid kit from my bathroom into my kitchen. I paused and stood there for a while not doing anything.

Then I resumed mindlessly moving about. I knew what to do. I read about it all. You could snort it, smoke it off foil, or inject it. It's like everything happened in slow motion. It was also like an out-of-body experience, I could see what I was doing, and a voice in my head telling me stop only got quieter and quieter.

I took a spoon from the drawer, then a cotton ball and a syringe from the kit. I tore the cotton ball into tiny bits of fluff. Then I took one of the small baggies out of the big one, opened it and dumped some of its contents on the surface of the counter. Spoon in hand, I filled it with water and then pushed some of the white powder into it. It looked like too much, but I wasn't sure. Turning around I used the stove to heat up the spoon until the mixture bubbled. With that achieved I put in a tiny bit of cotton. Using my teeth to uncap the syringe, I hesitated for a brief moment before pressing the needle to the cotton. I pushed the bit of fluff around the spoon with the needle. Then I pulled back on the plunger, and soaked up all the liquid through the cotton. Once that was done I pushed the plunger up to get rid of air bubbles and some of the poison leaked from the tip. Setting the syringe down on the counter, I backed away and went into my bedroom.

I really wish I owned a television, or something that could have distracted me. I wish I had walked out the front door. I wish I had flushed it down the toilet. I wish I had never grabbed the baggie in the first place.

I laid on my side on my twin size bed for what must have been an hour just thinking. Maybe I had been immunized, or something, from drugs. When I had been vaccinated for truth serums I had been put under. They could have pumped me full of a bunch of shit, and I would have never been the wiser. Standing up and loosening my tie, I made my way back into the kitchen.

I picked up the syringe and sat on the hard wood floor, leaning against the counter. I took off my tie and my work shirt, just leaving on my white under shirt. Using my tie as a tourniquet, I wrapped it around my left arm above the elbow. Then I sat staring at the floor for a few moments. Inhaling a deep breath through my nose I picked up the syringe. Laying it almost flat against my arm, I pushed the needle under the skin and into a blue vein. Pulling back on the plunger I saw my red blood mix with the substance inside.

I gazed at my arm for a few seconds, and then took the plunge. I watched as the drug disappeared from the syringe and into my blood.

I yanked the needle back out, and torn my tie off my arm. And then, there was nothing. I didn't feel anything, I was actually disappointed. Two seconds later I felt it.

It began in my arms, a tingling hot sensation. It creeped through my chest and down my legs. And then it hit me. Like being hit by a fucking car, it hit. And it hit good. I gasped loudly as I slid to lay down on the floor. I was melting through the wood floor. I tried to stretch out further but it was like moving through heavy water. It felt amazing. I had died and gone to heaven.

I can only describe it as orgasmic. Take your best orgasm and multiply it by ten and this is what you get. Ever inch of my body felt like it had been kissed by the sweetest angels. And for the first time in a long time, I felt peaceful.

In my research, I read that one of the reasons people use drugs in general is to escape. And that's what I was doing. I escaped to some better place where I could feel happiness. Behind my eyelids, I saw the faces of both Relena and Duo. But Relena faded and there was just Duo. His laughing face and sparkling violet eyes. Why is it always him on my mind?

I don't know how long I laid there for before the nausea hit. It could have been twenty minutes, it could have been two hours. There is no sense of time in the heaven I have found.

But suddenly it took over, and I rolled on to my side and vomited. It came out of nowhere. I felt like I had puked for an hour, but when it was over, I was back in heaven. I made myself get off the floor and slowly made it back to my bedroom, leaving my puddle of vomit behind.

Collapsing on my bed, I closed my eyes and just enjoyed the sensation. After a long while I succumbed to sleep. That night I had vivid dreams, that were really more like flash backs. I dreamt of the time I danced with Relena. Of when Duo busted me out of the hospital and I didn't open my chute until the last possible moment. Waking up to find Trowa had nursed me back to health after I self destructed. Of Quatre fighting the Zero System. Of my argument with Wufei during the Eves War that ended up with me and Zero falling from the sky and into the ocean. I dreamt of our goodbyes, and violet eyes.

When I woke up the next morning, I was surprised that my internal alarm woke me up right on time, and that I felt fine. I went to work and did my duties. All the while just wanting to go back to the peaceful place I had gone to. I've used it every night since. I knew I was lost before, but I think I'm more further gone now than I ever was.

* * *

I've loosely based this chapter off a friend of mine. Like most people who use drugs, we don't start off with hardcore narcotics. Alcohol, cigarettes, and marijuana tends to come first. A friend of mine from South Central (real bad part of LA) shot up heroin with her older brother when she was twelve. It was the first drug she was ever exposed to and she started doing it everyday after that first time. I want to portray Heero as just as fallible as another person.


	14. Midnight Snack

Surviving on Your Own

Midnight Snack

My chest is sore. My space heart is trying to tell me something, but I can't decipher what it is. I rub my palm in circles over my heart. I need to focus on the meeting taking place around me. Somebody wants one of our resource satellites for some reason or other. This is where running a business becomes political. Sure, I can sell the rights to the mine the satellite to the highest bidder, but then how will places like Africa, L2, or another poor nation get the resources they so desperately need. And they need it to bring themselves out of economic strife more than America or China does. They just want to keep their pockets fat, and the wealth of their nations growing. And sure WEI donates to many charity's across Earth and space, but a satellite could really improve things.

Relena smirks at me from across the table. I smile back. She advocating for this particular satellite to go to L2, and so do I. But politics is a dicey, vindictive game. I so don't envy her for going that route. But being on the business side of things isn't much more fun. And of course we can't just give away our satellites. Nooo, the board members would flip and toss me out of my office. They have the power to get rid of me if I try to do anything that would involve giving the mining rights away for no profit in return.

Our little meeting ends with no results, we'll have to meet again later in the week and hope we can come to a compromise. God, I fucking hate this job. Everyone leaves the conference room, and I see Relena with some of her guards. She appears to be waiting for me. I can feel her happiness wash off of her and into me, it makes the ache in my chest less severe.

"Hello Quatre," she smiles at me.

Again I smile back, "Miss Relena, how are you?"

"Good, very good. And yourself?"

"I'm fine," I answer.

We begin to walk through corriders as we continue talking. "It's so good to see you again. I worry about how you boys are adjusting to peace time." And by "boys" she means the other former pilots, myself included.

"I think I'm adjusting well," except for the fact that I might have a gambling problem, but I don't tell her that.

"What about the others?" She asks.

I reply in all honesty, "I don't know, we haven't kept in touch."

She seems shocked by this. "Not even with Trowa?"

"Wha - no, not even with him." I know I look surprised by her statement, and my voice sounded nervous even to me. Why does hearing his name make my heart thud and hurt more. *Beacuse you lo-* Shut up! "Why do you ask?" Great, I still sound pathetically nervous, almost scared.

She's blushing and touching her cheek, "Well, I just thought, um, you know ."

"No I don't know," I say, indignantly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend. I just thought there was, you know, something there between you two, more than friendship," she apologizes and actually looks embarrassed. Good, she shouldn't assume such things. *But it's - * I said shut up!

"It's fine," I huff out. Quickly changing the subject I ask, "How's Heero? Last I heard he was working for you."

Relena sighs softly, "He left some time ago. He trained my new security detail, though." She gazes around the elevator we're in as if looking for something. A slight frown graces her face as she speaks on, "I worry about him most. He has a hard time with people, you know? He can be very off putting and I'm sure it's not intentional. I think he subconsciously isolates himself from others." Yeah, I can see that. And "off putting" is the nice way of saying it.

I ask, "Do you know where he went?"

"Yeah, he's working for the Preventers on L1. He didn't just run off and disappear this time. He told me when he was leaving. That was a nice change from him just vanishing in the night," she laughs." I told him to call me if he ever just wants someone to talk to. Maybe I should call and check up on him." She seems sad, but I think we both know Heero is a difficult person to stay in contact with.

Closing my eyes and smiling softly I ask, "You miss him a lot, don't you?" I don't really need her confirmation, I can feel her concern and yearning. She really is a great girl, I wonder why he didn't stay with her.

She answers me as we step out of the lift and walk through the lobby, "Of course I do. I care for him greatly. I care for you all so much. I owe my eternal gratitude to you pilots for bringing the Earth and Colonies to peace." She beams a lovely grin at me, but it faults and turns into a frown. "But I am surprised and slightly disappointed that you're not in contact with them. You guys should stick together and be there for each other."

Yeah, maybe we should be, but that's not how it is unfortunately. "Yeah, funny thing about that is, I'm pretty sure I know where the all are. But I still haven't called or emailed or anything," I admit. But hey, it's not like they've tried to get in contact with me either.

"So where do you think they are?" She asks.

"Well you just told me where Heero is. I'm pretty sure Wufei is with the Preventers in Brussels still. I think Duo is working with Hilde Schbeiker on L2. Trowa, well I can't see him anywhere else but the circus he travels with." Ouch, saying his name hurts more than hearing it. *That's because you - * I fucking said SHUT UP!

We approach her limo and we hug. With our embrace still intact she says, "Well, I hope you call them soon, and good luck with everything." She lets me go and climbs into the limo.

"You too Miss Relena, take care." She smiles and then her guards enter the limo and they're gone. I head to my own limousine and head back to the estate.

As soon as I arrive I head to my room. I just want to be alone. Relena put a lot of unwelcome thoughts in my head. I just want to play poker and forget about the day.

Last week I upgraded from beating thousands of dollars to ten thousands of dollars. I was up 55.5k and then I lost it, plus another 30k. I really shouldn't be spending my money like this, the company's money. But fuck it, no one has noticed yet and they probably wont ever. We've got too much doe for them to notices a few grand gone. It's like a hundred billion dollar I can stop at anytime.

Motherfuck, I just lost another twenty five thousand. What's wrong with me? I'm usually such a better player than this. Ha, Quatre Raberba Winner gets butt hurt when he doesn't win. Oh, the irony. I need food. I've hardly eaten all day.

Making my way downstairs and into the kitchen, I rifle through the cabinets for something easy to make. Something I can nuke in the microwave. I want to get back to playing another round as soon as possible. Hm, Top Ramen, I guess it'll do. But instead of putting it in the microwave I boil it on the stove.

Suddenly, I realize I'm not alone. It's almost one thirty in the morning, who else could be up? Looking over my shoulder I see a sleepy Kenta. I sigh in relief. He's just one of the too many servants living here on the estate. He's a young guy, just a little older than me. His mother has been working here since before I was born.

"Mister Winner, what are you doing up at this hour?" He yawns, running a hand through his short brown hair.

I chuckle, "Oh, just having a midnight snack. What about you?"

"Me too," he says with a grin and his eyes half closed.

He snags a bowl of grapes from the fridge and comes to stand beside me. He munches on the fruit and I stare at the boiling pot on the stove, willing it to cook my food faster. Kenta's shoulder rests against mine. What the hell is he doing? Looking over towards him, he appears to be half asleep while chewing on a grape. I can sense his exhaustion, but I also feel something else coming for him, but I don't know what it is.

His head rolls to face my face, and he lazily opens his eyes, pinning me with a lascivious gaze. He has pretty green eyes. *But they aren't the most beautiful you've seen* says my space heart. Shut up, I whisper mentally. We stare at each other and my heart beats viciously in my chest cavity.

Suddenly, his mouth is on mine, and oh, it's amazing. My flesh heats up like and inferno and my every pour sings. We open our mouths and our tongues meet, sliding against each other. He tastes of grapes of course, and I drown in the flavor. This is wrong, I shouldn't do this. But I can't stop. My arms wrap around his neck as his fold over my waist. He nibbles on my bottom lip, and fuck this feels too good to be wrong!

He groans into my mouth. My eyes snap open. I freeze. I shove him back away for me. I must have an angry scowl on my face because he looks scared shitless.

"Fo-forgive me, Mister Wi-Winner! I - I - I shouldn't have done that!" He stammers out and flees the kitchen. No, you shouldn't have! I'm shaking with fury, and I don't know if I'm pissed off with myself or him. *You're angry with yourse-* SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!

I take a few minutes to regain my composure. I don't feel like eating now, and my ramen looks like mush. I turn the stove off, not caring to clean up after myself, I quickly make my way back to my room.

* * *

Hey I know I've made Q-ball a lil schizo by having him talk to his space heart, but I think it's funny. Enjoy.


	15. Backseat

Surviving on Your Own

Backseat

Luckily, last week when I got home for the bar Hilde was asleep. I had stupidly taken two more shots before leaving to walk back to our apartment, and almost ended up walking to 5th and Maxwell. Yeah, used to be 5th and Silverado, but they changed the street name after the massacre. In my drunken haze I had wandered there subconsciously, stopping just around the corner. Fuckin' hell. I haven't been back there since it happened, I don't know if there's another church or building in its place, or if it's just a vacant lot. And I sure as hell don't care to find out.

Father Maxwell and Sister Helen had tried to show me the love of God and Jesus. Yeah, well their fucked up God killed them. He wasn't there to save anyone, He turned his back. I was even starting to believe in their Lord, I read some of the Bible, learned of their saints and what they stood for. Didn't do them or me any good. If I had had faith, well then it burned up with the rest of the church that day.

He turned his back on me, so I turned my back on Him. Fuck the all "loving" God bullshit. So I became the God of Death, Shinigami, or whatever you fuckin' want to call it. And since I don't kill anymore, I keep my alter ego subdued with booze and sex. Maybe I should be the God of Fucking now? Ha! Of lust, something like that.

Oh, but I do miss the killing though. You don't call yourself Shinigami and not enjoy taking the life of another, that just wouldn't make sense, now would it. But if I ever do need to kill again, then I'll take up that offer from Une and kill for the Preventers. That or I'll just become a vigilante and clean up the streets of L2. People here are fucking vermin. I miss having a knife in my hand, the smell of blood, the thrill of hunting down the baddies.

Anyways, if I keep fantasizing about murdering people I'll end up going out and doing it, and since I'm trying to be a good boy and follow the law, I need to channel this energy elsewhere. Which is what I'm trying to do now. Hilde's five feet from me, and I'm sitting on the couch on looking for some tail. I'm surprised she hasn't caught on yet. I think I was only faithful to her for the first month of our "relationship". I shouldn't be doing this to her, she's a good caring person. I should break up with her, but when I'm about to do it, something stops me. I don't know what it is.

Maybe it's cuz I can tell I make her happy. I do good boyfriend things like take her out, buy her gifts for no reason, and tell her how beautiful she is. She's never suspected me of being the cheating, disgusting bastard that I am. I guess she doesn't know me that well. She sees me coming and going and let's me have my "space". And when she asked where I've been, I tell her. She asks what I did, I tell her I was meet up with someone. Which isn't much of a lie, just a half truth. What's worse is most of the time I don't feel all that guilty, but I do know she deserves better than me. That's for sure.

Anyways, back to casual encounters! I'm instant messaging with three different people and I'm trying to decide and who I'm gonna meet up with. I've got vixen23, who claims to be a busty redhead, sushi_roll69, a Vietnamese girl who wants to be tied down, and luv_master0 who is some dude who claims he can give me the best night of my life. Pppfftt, mkay. I'm not looking for an all night romp, or anything that will involve going to someone's place. Sorry sushi roll, you sound like loads of fun, but all the bondage would take too long to do. I just want to pick up someone, find a secluded street, and fuck in the backseat of my truck. That way I can be back before one a.m.

Alrightie vixen23, your on. She's game for the backseat fuck, and gives me cross streets to pick her up at in one hour. God I hope she's not fuck ugly. Ya never know what you're getting when you look for hook ups over the net. I close my laptop and not a moment too soon either, Hilde is walking towards me.

"So," she pauses coyly, "I was thinkin', if ya wanna fool 'round for a bit..." She lets that sentence linger as she begins to kiss along my neck. Mm, she knows my weak spot all too well.

Fuck I'm getting hard, but I've got plans. Don't get me wrong Hilde's a great fuck, and we do some kinky shit, but tonight Shinigami desires unknown flesh.

I groan huskily on purpose, "That feels good, but I was gonna go for a drive soon."

She leans away and pouts at me. Gah, not the puppy eyes, damn it. "Mmm, but I'm hornyyyy," she whines. Yeah, I can see you are, and so am I. I push her down onto her back on the couch and lean over her. Nuzzling her neck and groping her tit, I murmur, "We can fuck in the morning," I move to the other side of her neck and nibble, "I know how much you love lazy morning sex."

She huffs under me, "Fine, go take your dumb drive." I get up and make my way to the restroom, but before I get there she asks, "What do you do on these drives?"

"Listen to music," I supply. Which is true, I always have my MP3 player on in the car.

She gives me a curious look, "Where do you go?"

I shrug, "Wherever," I answer. Super vague, but not a lie. Each time I "go for a drive" I go some place different from the last. For a while I did do that, just drive and listen to music, it was soothing. But then I started drinking, and long drives and alcohol don't mix well. She seems to accept this answer and goes back into the kitchen.

In the bathroom, I shake out my hair, brush it and re-braid it. It was lookin' nappy so I had to fix that. When you have long hair, and you don't brush it, it begins to look like a rat's nest. And no one wants to fuck a sloppy lookin' person.

Okie dokie, got my sexy as hell black jeans on, plain red tee, no need for a jacket it's warm out tonight. Converse instead of my kick ass combat boots since they're a pain to take off in a hurry. Condom in the wallet? Check. And now I'm out the door.

I make my way to the cross street vixen gave me, pulling up I see a dark figure leaning against a building. I come to a stop at the corner, and roll down the passenger side window. Dark figure walks slowly to my car. Ha! I feel like I'm picking up a hooker every time I do this. But fuck that shit, I don't pay for sex.

"Vixen23?" I ask.

"DeathMaker?" She asks in response.

Leaning over the seat I open the door for her, I can feign being a gentleman. She hops in, we size each other up. She is definitely a busty redhead, with pretty brown eyes. She's cute, not super hot but cute enough to get my juices flowin'.

"I like your hair," she says smirks nervously.

"Thank you," huge grin on my face and we drive away.

We find an empty street with very low lighting. No ones walkin about so this is a good a place as any. It's not like this is an abnormal thing to do on L2 anyways.

I turn and look at her, she's nervous. "Ever done this before?" I ask.

In a small voice she answers, "Yeah, but only a few times."

I pull a flask size bottle of vodka out of the glove box, take a nice big gulp and hand to her. She looks relieved and downs her own giant gulp. We pass it back and forth a few times and then climb in the backseat. Sitting side by side we make out for a bit. Me messaging her chest, her hand on my groin.

"I wanna suck you," she moans in my ear. Ah yes, I want that too. Someone's feeling cock hungry tonight, heh. I undo my pants, push em down a lil and pull it out. Her gasp is loud.

"Holy fuck," she exclaims. Yes I know, but don't be scared. "You're fucking hung like a beast!"

"Yeah, I'm a luck-" the rest of my sentence is lost as her mouth descends on my rigid cock, and my chuckles replaced with a groan. She begins to blob her head eagerly, and expertly. I keep a gentle hand on the back of her head as she sucks me for all she's worth. God, she's moaning so loud around me. Yeah baby, take in as much as you can. I put my hand up her skirt and, hello! I'm not the only one going commando! I ram two fingers into her moist cavern. She's so fucking wet! Uh, like a bitch in heat.

After a few minutes of enjoying this I stop her. I want to play with them titties. I make the front drivers seat move forward and tell her to kneel on the floor. Good girl follows orders fast. We fumble as I try to get her shirt off while she's trying to get my rod back in her throat.

Shirt and bra off now, and enough spit on my dick for what I wanna do. I haul her up between my legs, groping at her breast and she gets it. Vixen squeezes my cock between her big ol boobs as her mouth clamps down on the head of dick. My hands take over hers on her chest. I wanna squeeze those puppies. Ah, fuck yeah, thrusting up, I start a mild pace as I titty fuck her, she moves in tandem with me. Her mouth is like a Hoover, goddamn. My pace picks up and after a few minutes I'm starting to feel close.

"Uh, we shud, ah, stop or, mmm, I'll come," I manage to say while still humping her chest.

She barely removes her mouth from me, "That's fine, just come on my face when do, okay?" she says breathily like she's ran a fucking marathon.

"Whah bout chu?" Still humping.

"I'm fine just come on my fucking face," she sounds irritated. But I think I could love her haha, she's asked me to do one of my most favorite things.

"K, uhh, it'll be a lot though," I grunt out. Big cock equals big balls, and I fire a mighty load.

Whatever she says is muffled cuz her mouth is back to doing what it does best. I grasp her tits more firmly, and thrust harder. Moments later I'm pushing her back and groaning, "I'm gonna come."

Vixen positions herself as I jerk myself viciously. We make eye contact a split second before I unload. Groaning loudly, my first shot hits her left eye, she gasps, flinches a little and opens her mouth wider. Second shot, across the bridge of her nose and a long her cheek. I get her mouth next. After what feels like twenty second (1) of me skeeting on her face, it ends and I'm a sweaty satisfied motherfucker. She whimpering a little and just fucking doused in cum, it looks good. Dripping down her face, down the side of her neck and dripping from her chin on those lovely breast. I'm still mentally horny even though cock is going soft.

I push on her shoulder roughly and pin her back to the back of the driver's seat one-handed, and shove my other hand between her thighs. Aw, fuck, her pussy fucking soaked. You really enjoyed that didn't you, you sweet thang. I force three fingers up in her and fuck her with my hand. She's moaning loudly in appreciation. Come on my cum covered skank, you're turn to come for me. Which she does, moaning like a wounded animal. Her wetness floods my hand.

I pull back and grab a rag from the floor, wipe my hands off, and pass it to her. She cleans herself off but there's a good amount of jizz in her hair. We climb back into the front and I drop her off right back where I picked her up.

"Thanks," she says and then she out the door and gone. Man, this is going to fuel my fantasies for a while.

* * *

(1) fun fact, the male orgasm can last between 20-30 seconds.


	16. Innocence Lost

Surviving on Your Own

Innocence Lost

Mondays are always the worst. I'm putting off paperwork in favor of playing another game of online poker. At this point I don't know my wins versus my loses. I've done this too much and I know that. But I need a rush to fill the endless boredom that is my life these days. Unfortunately, my money is inextricably linked with the company's. I must not be loosing too much since no one has seemed to notice.

I think my gambling got worse after that kiss with Kenta a month ago. He hasn't looked at me the same since. When we interact we try our best to avoid eye contact. Our once friendly relationship has turned very awkward.

Maybe I should just face the music and admit I might be gay. Might be. It's not like I would be faced with endless discrimination. Of course there's still bigots and groups of people who hate homosexuals, but it's not as bad as it used to be. Gays can marry and adopt children and live normal lives just like heterosexuals. So why do I fight it? I just, I just don't want to be that way. I'm the only male in my family left. I should marry a woman and have a wholesome life that way, right?

But I keep finding myself looking at men. And I have dreams about Trowa. Hmm, Trowa, I miss him. I still miss them all. Sometimes I'll start an email to one of them with the intent of sending it, but in the end I never do. Every now and then I'll look up Trowa's circus troupe to see where they are. They travel throughout the colonies and occasionally go to Earth when they have a sponsor. They're coming to L4 soon. Maybe I should go, just to see how he's doing.

Fuck! I just lost, again. I feel like I'm loosing more and more these days.

* * *

Read documents, sign papers, revise propositions, sit in tedious meetings that seem to go nowhere. That has been my morning so far. It's only Tuesday, and Friday can't come soon enough.

But it's lunch now, and I sit in a very fine restaurant waiting for Rashid to join me. I see him enter the establishment, smile and wave for him to come over. He's come all the way from the Middle East just to visit, and I couldn't be happier.

"Master Quatre, it's been far too long," he says in that rich deep baritone voice.

"Hello Rashid, it's so good to see you," I say with a smile. We shake hands and sit.

He gazes fondly at me, "Tell me Master Quatre, how have you been doing?"

I smirk and roll my eyes, "The wars over Rashid, you don't need to call me 'Master' anymore. And I've been doing fine. Working with my father's company and trying to live up to him and his expectations. It's rather dull though."

A deep chuckle rumbles from him, "Alright, from now on its just Quatre. It's good to see you are doing well. Do you enjoy your place at Winner Enterprise Inc?"

I huff out a sigh, "Not exactly, I'm not sure I like being so involved in the business world," I answer honestly. "And I don't take any pleasure from being thrust in front of the media, but someone has to do it, right?"

"If it's not what you wish to do, why don't you hand over the position to one of your sisters?" Rashid implores.

"My father wanted me to follow in his footsteps."

"Yes, and he wanted you to be a pacifist like him, but you fought alongside the Gundams anyways."

"Good point," I laugh, but it lacks humor. "I'd just like to honor him in someway. Even if it is working in a career that I don't really care for."

The waitress comes and takes our order for food and drinks. I'm glad for the distraction, and for the end of that particular conversation. I try not to dwell on the fact that I'm living in my fathers shadow.

"How have you and the Maganacs been?" I turn the table from myself to him.

"We've done very well. It's nice to have so much peace in our homeland. Many nations of the Middle East have seen so much turmoil and war, it's nice that for now, our countries have laid down their guns," he says while appearing to reflect on something. "We even have some of our peace thanks to your friend, Wufei," he grins.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"There was a terrible slave prostitution ring going around, and Wufei was in charge of the Preventer unit that took them down. Now our women are safer and more protected from being kidnapped and sold into sex slavery."

I'm - for lack of a better term - fucking amazed! "When was this?" I ask excitedly.

Rashid looks at me quizzically, "About half a year after the Eves War. Didn't he tell you about it?"

I slump a bit in my seat, "No, we have not kept in contact with each other."

He shrugs his big shoulders and says, "I guess that's not too surprising. He was always a lone wolf. What about the others?"

I shake my head. "I haven't contacted any of them since we said goodbye after our last battle. They haven't contacted me either," I answer.

"That's a terrible shame. Do you miss them?" Rashid asks.

"Yes, of course I do. I miss them all. Maybe one day we can reunite," I shrug.

He smiles at me, "Yes, maybe one day. I bet you miss one of them more than the others though, hmm?"

"What do you mean?"

"I saw the affection in your eyes whenever you looked at Master Barton," he says while bouncing an eyebrow. All I can do is blush, and try to find something to look at besides Rashid's face. "You know, he gave you the same look."

No I didn't know. Or maybe I don't want to know. Or maybe I did and just feigned ignorance. Either way, I can't face this now. He's not even here and I haven't seen him in almost a year and a half. Why aren't these feelings gone? Who holds onto a crush for this long?

I didn't just think that. I never crushed on him. *Yes you did. More than a cru-* SHUT UP! I can't deal with this right now.

Rashid, sensing my discomfort, lets the conversation end there. Our meals come and we enjoy a nice lunch with no further prying into me or my life.

After lunch, I returned to my office. Finished my duties and left. Now I can relax and try to win back some of the money I lost. I need to check my email first. Hmm, looks like there's an evening get together between politicians and business figures at Relena's estate in Brussels this Saturday. She's invited me personally. I'll have to attend to save face. It might even be nice, I haven't been to earth in a while.

The guest list tells me who will be attending. I recognize many of the names, but there's one that stands out. Dorothy Catalonia. Great, I get to socialize with the wench that stabbed me. At least it's on Saturday, I'll still get to see Trowa at the circus on Friday.

* * *

My Wednesday affairs were no different from the norm. Just work and fucking around on my desktop. Today was uneventful, and I'm glad I haven't been forced to make a public speech for the media for a while now. I think that's my least favorite part of this job.

I don't want to be in the public eye. I wish I could have faded into the fold of time like the others.

Damn. That just brought up my bizarre dream back to the center of my mind. Being an extreme empathe gives me lucid dreams that I'm not sure what to make of. I saw Duo, drowning in some kind of glass fixture. Wufei, cradling his head in his hands. I saw Trowa, lonely and an emotion wafting off him that I can only describe as longing and loss. Heero, falling into a dark void. I awoke with my chest in severe pain. Dear God, I hope my dream was just that, a dream. But that voice that is my space heart, tells me otherwise.

It's three in the morning, technically Thursday, and I'm making a cup of tea after having that awful dream.

"Mister Winner," I hear the whispered words come from behind me. It's Kenta. "What are you doing up at this hour?" I feel déjà vu claiming my senses. Isn't this what happened last time we found each other in the kitchen late at night?

"I'm just making myself some tea so I can hopefully go back to bed," I tell him without looking at him.

I hear him sigh, "Do you have enough water boiling for two?"

"Uh, yeah," I turn and look at his green eyes. He's standing so close again. How did he get so close? We look into each others eyes. We're both searching for something.*Youre searching for -* Please, not now...just let me...just let whatever happens happen.

We're in the same exact position as last time. Shoulder to shoulder. This time I lean forward and claim his lips with my own. He responds and clutches me in a tight embrace. I open my mouth and give him the permission he seeks to plunder me. Our tongues collide and meet in a hurried haze.

His lips trail from my mouth to my ear, "Please, let me touch you," he whispers. This time I can't do anything but slump into him. I'm aroused, and I can feel his excitement against my upper thigh. Oh please, just do what you want to me. Clutching his bare shoulders, I nod.

Kenta's hands trail down my back and to my hips. He presses a palm to my groin and I'm on fucking fire. I've never felt this alive, not even in the midst of battle. I place my hand over his clothed erection, and dear God, it feels good to touch another man like this.

We both reach under the fabric of our cotton pajama bottoms at the same time, grasp each other, and moan. Oh Lord, touching another man is the most arousing experience I have ever had. He's heavy, firm, and soft in my hand.

We stroke each other as our tongues dance. I shouldn't be doing this. I shouldn't enjoy another mans touch, but I do. He comes over my hand, and on my hip with a groan.

Kenta pushes me against the counter, pushes my pj pants down further, they pool around my ankles. He breaks our kiss and shoves a finger in his mouth. Pulling it out, he maneuvers his free hand between my legs, and OH FUCK! He pushed it inside me. Nnnn, I'm panting into his mouth. He massages my prostate with that one finger, and I don't think I can take anymore. I come harder than I ever have before.

We breathe shallowly, resting our heads on each others shoulders. I lightly push him away, pull up my bottoms, and leave the kitchen. I know he's staring at me as I walk away. I can feel his eyes on me. I just need to be alone.

* * *

I've been spending most of today working vigorously. Trying not to think of what happened between Kenta and I last night.

Obviously it's not working. I can't be gay. I don't want to be gay. *Its not something you ch-* Yeah! Okay, whatever. Ugh I don't know what to do. I think I've read the paper that's in front of my face at least five damn times.

Alright focus Quatre! You got your ticket for the circus tomorrow, and your flight for Earth the next day! The weekends going to be fun and relaxing. Just get through today!

* * *

I came here to the circus alone. Drove my own car because I want to do this by myself. I've dressed myself in average clothes, a ball cap, and dark sunglasses to hide my identity. I don't want to be recognized while I'm out.

By the time I arrived the show had already started. I gave my ticket for entry and was going to make my way to my seat when I decided to stop and just watch from the entrance where no one could see me. I'm hidden in the shadows, and that's where I want to stay. I didn't come to see the whole show. I didn't even come to speak with him. I just want a glimpse and then I'll be satisfied.

I watch a few acts before he's finally in the center ring. He sits in a metal hoop. My chest constricts at the sight of him. He looks the same, from a distance. Happiness wafts over me as I watch him being lifted high above the ground. He does flips, twirls, and other acts in and around the hoop with the grace and flexibility that he possesses in his strong frame.

My heart starts to throb with pain and longing, my breathing becomes labored. I turn and exit the tent before his performance is over. I've received what I wanted by coming here. Just a glimpse. And if I stay too long I'll want more.

I rush to my car, breathing heavily as perspiration breaks out on my brow. My hands tremble as I start my car, and make haste for the drive home. I need to pack to leave for Earth tomorrow.

* * *

My flight to Earth was the red-eye that left at one in the morning. Thanks to modern aerospace technology the flight through space will only be thirteen hours. I slept the first seven and spent the remainder of the flight catching up on work. It was 4 o'clock by the time I landed in Brussels. I changed in a limo on the way to Relena's estate. Her estate is just as large and luxurious as my own, if not more so.

"I'm so glad you could make it," she greeted me at the door.

"So am I," I said as we hugged.

"Guess who's here," she prompted excitedly.

"Who?"

"Wufei! He's assigned to my guard detail for this evening," she said happily. "So he's working, but still. He's here and you should go find him." She ushered me inside.

I walked through the hall keeping my eyes peeled for a mysterious Chinese man. Nervousness and anxiousness rattled my bones. I just saw Trowa, and now I get to see another old comrade. Passing through the doorway to the banquet hall I spied him immediately. He stood stock straight at the right end of the room. As I approached him we made eye contact. His brown eyes filled with shock and something akin to fear. Those emotions vanished quickly and was replaced with uncertainty.

"Hello Wufei," I greeted with a smile.

"Winner," he said with a nod.

I turned to look over at the people and stood beside him. I know eye contact sometimes makes him uncomfortable. "How are you? It's been a long time," I ask.

"Fine, just working," he says, but I feel he's lying. I saw light bruises on his cheekbone and along his jaw. Nothing too serious, but his knuckles are nicked up too. "How about yourself?"

"I'm doing fine, and just working a lot as well," I answer. "Do you enjoy working with the Preventers?"

"Yes, it's very fulfilling. Do you like your position in your father's company?"

"Yes and no," I reply. "I don't enjoy the endless paperwork and meetings, or being in front of the camera for the media, but I do like thinking the work we do is good for people somewhere."

"So all you do is work?" He asks.

"Yes," I lie. It's a white lie, but I'm not about to tell fucking Chang Wufei I gamble on a daily basis to ward off boredom. But I still feel the pang of guilt for such a small lie. To change the subject, and hide my discomfort I ask, "Have you heard from the others?" I don't have to elaborate on who I'm inquiring about.

Wufei's posture stiffens and he gruffs out, "No, have you?"

I shake my head. "No you're the first one I've spoken to since our goodbyes here in Brussels a year and a half ago. I did see Trowa though, yesterday."

He eyes me curiously. "You didn't speak with him?"

"No," I sigh. "I watched him perform with his circus briefly and then left." He seems surprised by this.

"Oh," he nods his head. "I should go look around the perimeter and check what's going on in the security room."

"Okay," we shake hands. "We should stay in touch, Wufei. I've missed you." He nods again appearing to be uncomfortable and a little sad, but I can feel a bit of warm happiness flow through him as well.

He leaves and I make my rounds through the party goers, making small talk and chatting with many familiar faces. We eat and elegant dinner, and drink champagne. I catch a few more glances of Wufei, but I miss the chance to approach him again.

After dinner, and after one too many glasses of alcohol, I turn to find myself face to face with Dorothy Catalonia. Damnit! I've been purposefully avoiding her, and she fucking sneaks up behind me.

"Quatre, it's so good to see you," she says, sarcasm dripping from every word.

"Good to see you as well," I reply as nicely as I can in my uncommonly inebriated state. One of her forked eyebrows raise, and a devilish smirk plays on her lips. "How are you Miss Catalonia?"

She chuckles, "Fine, all is good. Have you had a little much to drink?"

What the hell? I didn't slur, am I swaying? I don't like the way she's looking at me, like she finds oh so funny and interesting. "Not enough yet," I say a little loudly and down the rest my glass, and promptly pick up another from a waiter passing by. She laughs.

"Why don't you and I talk somewhere more private?"

"Why?" I ask sounding obviously displeased by the idea. She laughs more, but says nothing as she pulls me from the room by my elbow.

She leads me through the hall and into a study. The walls are lined with books and there's a grand mahogany desk at one end of the room and a plush red couch at the other. She lets me go and I plant my butt on the couch.

Dorothy walks over to the desk and leans against. "Tell me Quatre," she pauses and takes a sip from her champagne glass, "do you still fence?"

A dry laugh escapes my mouth, "Don't tell me you brought me here for a duel. This surely isn't the time or place for that."

"No," she laughs. "But I do like to duel. In more ways than one," she says coyly with a wink. Dear God, please don't be hitting on me, that's beyond weird.

"What do you mean?" I ask while tugging on the collar of my tuxedo shirt and taking a nervous gulp of my drink.

She sauntered over to me and sits on lap. "I think you know what I mean," she muttered as she runs a finger along the bridge of my nose. She takes my drink and places it on the floor with hers. Pushing me down onto the couch, she straddles my hips, and runs her hands over my clothed chest. I'm too shocked to react in anyway.

Her mouth descends on mine, and I inhale sharply through my nose. She swipes her tongue against my closed lips and I open them instinctually. Her tongue dives into my mouth, she tastes of champagne. I respond tentatively, unsure if I want to keep this going. If I have sex with her it might give me the answer to wether I'm gay or not...

*You shouldn't do this.* My space heart tells me, but were already here, and I just want to know.

Dorothy grinds her body against mine, and I groan at the contact. "We gotta be quick about this," she murmurs. I nod as she begins to work the belt on my pants. She pulls them and my boxers down mid thigh. I'm only half erect and this displeases her. She lowers her head to my groin and takes me into her mouth, smearing her red lipstick against my flesh.

Moaning, I throw my head back and close my eyes. I've never done this before and it feels good, in a matter of moments I'm fully aroused. She stops and shimmies out of her undergarments while leaving her black evening gown on.

As she takes her place on top of me again I can feel her moistness against my bare crotch. I let out a shaky breath as she lowers her body onto my shaft. It's warm and it does feel good, but strange and wrong at the same time. She pushes down the top of her strapless dress exposing her ample breast. Grabbing my hands, she places them on her chest. Her mounds feel unnaturally squishy.

We pant together as she rides me. I move with her a bit, but most let her do the work. Eventually it comes to an end and I ejaculate inside her with a pathetic whimper.

We re-dress quietly. She gives me a funny look before asking, "Was that your first time?"

"Yes," I answer without looking at her.

She laughs, "Oh, that's rich!" Fuck you, bitch.

I hastily exit the room before she's finished fixing her make up. I find Relena in the banquet hall and tell her I need to leave and thank her for her hospitality. I also ask her to say goodbye to Wufei for me. Once I'm in my limo and on the way to my hotel, I begin to shake. I fell filthy, cheap, and used.

* * *

I spend my whole flight on Sunday gambling on my laptop. Desperately trying to avoid thinking about what happened the other night. I end up loosing...way too much. I'll have to get most or all of it back if I don't want my CFO to find out. Shit.


	17. Belonging

Surviving on Your Own

Belonging

It's been a month since that first night I shot up. So far it's not interfering with the rest of my life. Well, except now I bark out at people when they come into my office. I'm afraid someone's going to look at me and just _know_. I'm more isolated now, but I don't care because I have my place of peace to look forward to. I've also started the annoying habit of bouncing my leg a lot while I sit at my desk. I get too impatient for the end of the day to come. Too impatient for the weekend, and it's only Monday.

There's a knock at my door. Fuck, just leave me alone. It's Noah, my other "teammate".

"Hey Heero, ya got a sec?" He asks.

No, I don't. "What do you want?" I ask coldly.

He closes the door and sits at the edge of my desk. "That's a little rude. Ya know, you look like you could use a bump," he says with a smirk. What the fuck does that mean? I glare at him and say nothing. "I doubt you brought it to work though."

"What are you talking about?" I growl.

"You're using the smack you stole aren't you?" He asks, his smirk turning into a grin. Oh fuck, I new someone had to have noticed. Fear grips at my every fiber. I'm going to loose my job. I just know it. I must look horror stuck because he laughs. "Calm down man, I won't tell anyone. You're lucky I was tinkering around with the security feed when I saw you take that stuff. And don't worry, I erased the footage. It's like you were never there."

He's a smooth talker like Duo with green eyes like Trowa. Why would he "watch my back" like that? There's something he's trying to get at. "Why are you telling me this?" I ask.

"Well you're gonna need some more at some point right? And so am I. You did what I do. Take from the burn pile because no one will notice it being gone. So I think we should look out for each other," he grins at me. "I need to get what my clients want and I could use a look out."

"If you've known what I did the whole time, why wait until now to ask for my assistance?" How can I trust someone who's doing the same devious thing I am? I've hardly interacted with this guy. He's very charismatic like Duo, and it was for that reason that I've avoided being around him.

He shrugs his shoulders. "Well I didn't know jack shit about you, so I tried to research you, and came up with nothing. You don't have any degree, or college experience to get you this job. And whatever you did before coming here is a damn mystery. I couldn't even hack your files," he admits. Good, I put my own security measures around mine and Wufei's files. No one can get into those. "But whatever you did, or have done, I don't care about. I'll let you keep your secrets, I won't ask you about your past. You seem to be the type to hold many secrets, so I'll let you have them. I just want your help," Noah ends his little speech with a grin.

It would be nice to have someone watch over my shoulder, I guess. And someone who I can help in return. "What do you want me to do?" I ask.

He smiles even bigger, "Just hack the security cameras, watch and then erase."

"You'll get me what I need as well?"

"Of course," he holds out his hand. I grab it and we shake. "You and I are gonna work great together I can tell," he smiles again and tosses his black hair out of his eyes. "But first, as your new appointed buddy, imma help you out."

"What do you mean?" I don't need help with anything else. I just want him to leave my damn office.

"You're craving like crazy. You've been bouncing your leg nonstop. I got some with me," he says. Excitement and hunger clutches the pit of my stomach. We shouldn't do this here, not at HQ! But I want it. Noah pulls a necklace out from under his shirt. It looks like a big blue marble with a silver top attached to a chain. He unscrews it and takes my hand. Clasping my thumb and index finger closed, he dumps a small amount of white powder into the fold.

I just stare at it. "Well, fuckin snort it man. Take that edge off, it'll make the day easier," Noah claims. He does the same on his hand, snorts it through his nose, and then licks the remaining residue off. "It might make you less of a prick too," he laughs. I grunt.

I copy him and, oh god, I feel better instantly. It'll be enough to get me through the last two hours of work. "I'll get you one of these," Noah says while shaking his necklace. "And we should hang out sometime," he says as he makes his way to the door.

"Why?" I ask. Why would he want to associate outside of our little deal?

"Cuz, you seem like an interesting dude, and ya can never have too many friends, am I right?" With that he leaves my office. He wants to be friends? Fine, I could use a 'friend'...

* * *

Next day at work Noah gave me my own marble necklace. Only mine was purple. I love it. It's one of the few gifts I have ever received and that alone makes it special. It's a light soft purple, almost lavender, like Duos eyes. And that's why I love it even more.

Noah had filled the marble from his own supply. Said he did it because "we're friends now and friends do good by each other". I like that. I still don't think I can trust him as far as I can throw him, but its nice to have someone who has faith in me. Someone who doesn't know my history. Someone who doesn't want to use me as a weapon.

Friday Noah wants me to interfere with the security feed while he takes what he needs, and what I need. Which is good because I've gone through most of my baggie. I'm not out, but I'll need more soon. I still can't believe that I've gotten involved with drugs. With heroin. I mean, fuck, heroin? I choose the worst poison to get attached to and fall in love with, and now I'm hooked.

It's after hours now, and I'm in the locker room. I used to work out at least an hour after every shift, now I do it twice a week. And I don't push myself like I used to. I change into my swim trunks and head for the restroom.

In a stall, I snort a bit of H off my hand. I give myself a few minutes for the buzz to hit. It's not as good as shooting up, but I'll do. I go back to my locker and leave my new gift inside it. I do my best to avoid eye contact like I've always done, but now it's for a new reason. Drugs like heroin and morphine make the pupils tiny, not hugely dilated like so many other drugs. I don't want anyone to know.

I make my way over to the Olympic size pool the Preventers have here and jump in the deep end feet first. It's so peaceful here underwater. Muted sounds and liquidated vision. I sink to the bottom and rest. If I could I would stay here. If I could choose my way to die then I would like to drown (1). Maybe that's why I crash landed in the ocean more the once. Maybe I know this is how I will die someday.

I hold my breath until my lungs start to ache. Pushing my feet against the bottom of the pool, I launch myself back to the surface. I gasp for breath and realize, I used to be able to hold my breath for much longer. I know it's the heroin causing my inability to hold my breath.

So I swim, lazily. I'm not really here to work out anymore. I just want to enjoy the feel of the water rushing past my skin as I glide through it. I love swimming. Maybe I should move to Earth so I can swim in the ocean again. The Sea is a mighty force that requires respect. She can take you down and under, refuse to give you back, and take your life. That is one of the many splendors of Earth. Mother Nature is a fierce force to be reckoned with. I'd really like to go back someday...

* * *

It's Wednesday and Noah has decided to move into my office. I asked him why he wants to be in here with me.

"Because! Randall is a fuckin bore, and were partners now," he says with a wink and set down a box of junk on the desk he hauled in here. I don't know how to feel about this. I just met the guy and he's moving his shit into my space. I don't know, I want company, right? And he's the only one who knows about my...habit. And now we are accomplices.

"Dude, you need to let more light into this place. It's like a damn dungeon in here. No wonder people are weirded out by you when the vibe in here is creepy," Noah laughs as he opens the blinds and turns on the extra lights. Maybe that's why people get uncomfortable around me. It's not me, necessarily, it's my office...maybe.

He arranges all of his things on his desk and takes a his seat. Well, looks like I've got an office mate.

* * *

Noah and I worked diligently through work earlier. It's Thursday, and I just want it to be the weekend already so I won't have to leave my apartment. I was pleasantly surprised to find that Noah wasn't a constant chatter box. He was fairly quiet all day. We talked a bit, and did a few "bumps" throughout the day. We keep our office locked so no one just barges in.

After work, Noah insisted he come to my place "in order to get to know each other better". So that's what we're doing now. Standing in my rather bland living room.

I notice a red light flashing on my video phone on my desk. Damn, Relena called again. She's been trying to get a hold of me, see how I'm doing. I haven't answered once, either because I wasn't here when she called or because I was high, and I don't want to see her when I'm like that. Or maybe it's that I don't want her to see me like this. I erase her message without watching it.

I turn my attention back to Noah, who's been rifling through my kitchen. He gives me a funny look. "Dude you've got like nothing here," he says baffled. You have spectacular observation skills. "You got a rinky dink table with one chair. And you have one plate, cup, bowl, spoon, knife, and fork. What the hell? Don't own anything more than the very bare essentials?"

"It's all I need," I answer.

"You're a strange one, you know that?" Yeah, I figured I was a little odd. "You got any foil up in here?" He asks. I retrieve it from a cupboard. He dumps some of his smack from his necklace onto the foil.

He sees me watching and asks, "Ever smoke it before?" I shake my head. "You'll like it, not as much as shooting, but it's an experience, ya?"

He holds up the foil, pulls a small straw and lighter from his pocket. I watch as he burns the bottom of the foil and inhales the smoke through the plastic tube.  
After watching I follow his technique and smoke my own. Inhaling it tastes bad, but I feel it go straight to my dome. I exhale slowly and repeat until its gone. I can feel myself ascending to heaven.

"Wow," I hear Noah say. I roll my head to look at him. "That's the first time I've seen you smile, and look anything but royally pissed off."

I laugh and he grins wider. God, that felt good too. Laughing. Maybe there's hope for me to be normal yet.

"Hey tomorrow I'm having a little get together, you should come," he says.

"I don't know about that," I frown.

"Just think about. It'd be us and like three other people. One of em is my girl, Landi."

I shrug in response. "Imma hound you about it at work tomorrow," he laughs.

* * *

And bug me all day at work he did. Yesterday he had been quiet and enjoyable to work with in the same space, but today he wouldn't shut the hell up until I agreed to go over to his place.

After I agreed, we got back to work. Around three o'clock Noah decided it was time for him to go snatch our stuff from the burn pile. I hacked into the security feed, and blocked the cameras from picking up the images I was seeing on other monitors. From the time he entered the evidence basement to the time he left was all of ten minutes.

I watched as he took baggie after baggie of stuff from the burn piles and shoved the goods into inside pockets of his jacket. He took more than what we needed, and it was then that I remember he said he had 'clients'. He took pills, weed, and other bags full of powder.

The second he stepped out of the evidence room, I erased the footage and put that camera back on its normal feed to the security room. It was like he was never there.

After work, I followed him to his apartment on the other side of town in my own car. Once I inside his place, I met his 'girl', Landi. She is officially the most interesting looking girl I've ever met, and that's just my judgment on her physical appearance. She's short and skinny with very pale skin. Bleached blonde hair that's shaved on the sides of her head. Her bangs are cut high up on her forehead, and the hair on the back of her head his long and looks like an intentional mess (2). She's got big hazel eyes that almost seem too big for her face.

As soon I as I came in she literally bounced over to me. "So this is Heero, eh?" She asked in high voice.

"Yup, the one and only," Noah informed.

"It's great to finally meet you," she squeaked as she pulled me into a hug. I patted her on the back.

She dragged me all over the apartment, giving me a tour of the place and then she made me sit in the kitchen while she cooked something for Noah and I.

"She's a firecracker," Noah laughed. I nodded in agreement.

We ate the pasta Landi made and talked for a bit. I got to know them better. Landi stared at me with unshielded fascination, and touched me in someway or another whenever she could. It made me a little uncomfortable, but I got the impression she's like this with everyone.

Two men joined us later in the evening, but I didn't pay them much attention. They stayed in the kitchen with Noah, making a purchase I assume. Landi had hauled me into the living room to show me some of the music she liked. It was kind of hard to listen to it with her yammering away though, but I quickly found her personality and constant chattering endearing. She's very, for lack of a better word, bubbly. And though I find that characteristic in most people very annoying, with her it doesn't bother me at all.

"Hey babe, where's the rig?" Landi asked over her shoulder to Noah.

"Bedroom," he called back.

She disappeared for a few minutes and came back with the paraphernalia we need to get high. "You shoot, right?" She asked me. I nodded. "Here, I'm going to do it for you okay? Since we're friends now."

She cooked a batch in a silver spoon with a giant lighter. I helped her with the process of getting it in the needle so it wouldn't spill. I took off my tie and rolled up my sleeve.

"Hey, no don't do it that way. You'll get track marks if you use your arms too often. Tie it around your leg and we'll use your saphenous vein in your calf," she tells me. I do as she says. The vein bulges a little and she slips the needle in. I untie my work tie and she presses on the plunger. It takes a minute for it kick in, and I lay on the plush rug in the living room beside her. She combs her fingers through my hair before she starts cooking up a batch for herself.

I listen to the music that's playing lowly in the background of my haze, "I don't want to be the one, The battles always choose, 'Cause inside I realize, That I'm the one confused,". (3)

"I like this song," I mumble. My voice sounds like a groggy groan. Landi lays down beside me, her high taking ahold of her. We lay face to face and she smiles at me.

"It's a really old song. I like it too," she whispers like she's telling me a secret. She goes back to stroking my hair, it's helping me get closer to the peak. I love the sinking feeling this drug creates. No matter what surface I'm on, I feel like I'm falling into it. A few moments later she whispers more to me, "You have a good heart Heero. I can sense these things from people. Makes me wonder why you're doing this shit."

"I don't know," I reply honestly. "Are you saying you don't have a good heart?" Her hand glides from my hair to stoke my face, her thumb swipes along my cheekbone under my eye.

Her eyes darken and seem a little empty as she whispers, "Not all the time."

* * *

I spent the night at Noah's and Landi's place on their couch. We spent Saturday "hanging out" and getting fucked up. Noah had customers come in and out of the apartment. I don't think it's wise of him to sell out of his home like this, but I keep my mouth shut. It's not my operation.

Some of the people stayed for a while and I was eventually convinced into trying cocaine. That was an intense experience all on its own. It brought me up in a hyperactive way. I became more and more talkative with each line. It felt good to talk and and laugh. I felt normal, not my quiet reserved self.

"You have a beautiful smile, Heero!" Landi told me boisterously.

I spent most of the day talking with Landi. During the evening a few more men and women came over, they were going to roll, which I learned meant taking ecstasy. Landi and I rolled with them including Noah. It was fun, I even danced with the both of them.

We stayed up all night high on ecstasy and doing copious lines of coke, dancing, laughing, and just enjoying the night. We stopped around five in the morning, and we smoked weed to bring us down. I snorted a line of H to come down even more and take the shaky edge off from all the uppers. Even though experimenting had been fun, and I like each drug in a different way, my favorite is still heroin.

That morning I passed out in Noah's and Landi's bed, with her in the middle of us. I think I've found a place to belong.

* * *

Sunday was spent mostly sleeping. The three of us woke way past noon. I felt extremely worn down, groggy, and just weird all over. Noah and Landi took care of me though, so that was nice.

She gave me multiple glasses of orange juice and water. We three crammed onto the couch and watched old movies and smoked weed. That helped me feel better and find an appetite. After eating we resumed our movie marathon. Landi made me lay with my head in her lap, stretched out over the sofa on my stomach. Noah sat on the floor leaning against the couch. He didn't seem possessive or territorial over Landi, which I find strange. Even though I've only known her for three days, she's shown me a lot of affection, but he doesn't appear to be jealous of this.

Not that he should be, I'm fairly certain I'm a homosexual. Whatever, I guess it just doesn't matter. Landi scratched my head and even massaged my shoulders a bit. I like her touch, it's warm and kind, just like her.

* * *

(1) Most of us, including myself, fear drowning. But I've read many accounts from drowning survivors claiming that their last moments before unconsciousness are extremely peaceful and serene.

(2) I'm basing the character Landi off Yolandi Visser from Die Antwoord because I love her.

(3) "Breaking the Habit" Linkin Park


	18. Falling

Surviving on Your Own

Falling

With the weekend over, everyone has to pitch in with dismantling the tent. We're going to L4. I'm nervous and excited about this. Quatre's on L4, but I won't go see him. I'd have nothing to say because I'm back to not say anything anymore. But just knowing I'll be on the same colony as him makes me somewhat happy.

This will be the third time we've gone to L4 over the last eighteen months. Each time I tell myself I'll pay Quatre a visit, but I never do. I'll stand across the street and hope for a glimpse of him, that I have yet to receive.

Cathy has been watching me like a hawk since my almost fall a month ago. She's not bothered to speak to me, which I'm grateful for. I don't need her hounding me on eating and sleeping. I'm eating fine. And I'm sleeping...hardly ever. Maybe I should get this checked out. I'm starting to resemble a zombie.

This insomnia shit is getting bad, it's the point where I can, literally, see things happening in slow motion. I think I've been having small hallucinations as well. Sometimes I feel like someone's watching me. I've also been falling asleep sporadically. I'll be in the middle of doing something, or just sitting in my trailer, and I'll nod off. But it's only for about five maybe ten minutes at a time. I don't even notice it until I'm awake.

Alright, the tents down and we're all packed. Time to get moving.

* * *

"Trowa? Trowa?" Someone's shaking me. I open my eyes, damn I guess I fell asleep. "Trowa, you're not okay." It's Cathy, and I've been asleep for...six minutes according to my watch that I was staring at before passing out. "We really need to get you to a doctor," she says, her voice and eyes full of worry.

I shake my head 'no'.

She looks displeased, but not surprised. "I'm sorry for hitting you," she whispers. I shrug. Cathy frowns and asks, "Why won't you let me help you?" And she walks away, knowing I won't open my mouth to give her any kind of response. Honestly Catherine, there is nothing you can do to help me.

"Trowa!" I turn to see Manager. "Help the crew load the lions onto the craft! They're acting squirrelly." Heh, that's a funny way of putting it.

The lions are already in the cargo hold, but they're nervous. Stalking back and forth in their cages, roaring at anyone who comes close. They tend to get like this when we fly. They can sense they're being moved and they don't like it. I understand, I don't like it when others force me to move either.

I grew up as a mercenary, a band of rebels moving place to place. And now I'm with another group of misfits that move about. I think it was that kind of familiarity that attracted me here in the first place. All the traveling has worn me down, I would like to stay in one place and call it 'home'. I don't think I will be that fortunate for that though.

The lions are like me. They want a home and to be free but they're caged. My cage is my own doing, but a cage none the less. Maybe if I knew what I wanted out of life then I could be free. Or maybe I should just wander around the galaxy until I find that freedom. I'm not sure what to do.

I kneel by the lions cage and reach my hand inside. Sasha is much more anxious than her lover Rolo. She usually comes to me, but right now she's eyeing me suspiciously. I understand, I haven't been my usual self lately. Or for a while for that matter but still.

Sasha makes her way over slowly towards me. Yes, come here pretty girl, I won't hurt you. She comes close, nuzzles my wrist and forearm, all the while keeping her brown eyes focused on mine. Her brow furrows as she growls at me. Before I can pull back she's locked her jaw around my arm. Fuck! It hurts!

With my arm still in her mouth, I take deep breaths. If I panic now she'll bite harder. I can't scream. I can't move. Sasha could easily rip my whole arm off. But goddamn! All I want to do is rip my arm for her jowls and scream. She has never attacked me like this before!

Let me go, I plead with my eyes. I see her eyes widen, her bite loosens, and then I hear something zip through the air. In a nano second there's a dart in her neck. She looses her hold on me, and falls to the floor of her cage. Rolo roars.

I turn, still kneeling to see who shot Sasha with the tranquilizer. It's Catherine. Why does she always have to be there when I turn around?!

"I wasn't about to let that lion eat you," she says, still holding the dart gun like it's an assault rifle. With her dexterity and aim she could have been a good soldier. "Lets bandage up your arm."

I nod in agreement even though I'm mad at her for hitting Sasha with a dart, she was going to let go on her own.

My wounds aren't that bad, just punctures where her teeth fell I to my flesh. I've had more serious wounds. But there is a good deal of blood.

Cathy bandages me up with a forlorn expression on her face. I reach up my uninjured right hand and touch her face. Catherine, it's okay. I'm okay. I try to speak through my eyes. Tears build up in hers, "Even the cats know you're not you, Trowa. I can't do anything to bring you back because you won't let me. But I don't care!" She exclaims. "I'm here whether you like it or not! Whether you speak or not. I'll always be by your side!" She pauses as her tears finally fall. "I'm here for you, and I love you Trowa. Just remember that," she whispers as she finishes wrapping my arm.

She gets up to leave. I want to grab her and verbally tell her that I love her too, but I just sit where I am. She walks away.

* * *

The next day we land safely on L4, we disembark and make our way over to where we will be setting up. It's late so we'll be setting everything up in the morning. In my trailer, I change the dressing on my arm and inspect my wound.

It's not that bad, just a few deep punctures. If Sasha had shook her head, I would have lost a lot more flesh and blood. I wonder why she did it. The lions have never been anything but comfortable with my presence.

I pull on a blue long-sleeved shirt, grab a black zip up jacket and leave my trailer. I walk through the dark streets of L4. The nights here are colder than on L3. I hop on a bus and ride it a good fifteen miles away. I get off at my stop, and walk another three blocks until I'm standing across the street from a very large house with a winding driveway with a gate blocking the entrance. The gate has a large 'W' created into its wrought iron frame work.

I do this every time I come to L4. The Winner estate is huge and magnificent in all its glory. Maybe one day I'll walk up to that gate, press the intercom bottom and request entrance. I'm sure Quatre would mind me visiting him unannounced, but I just can't do it yet. Something's holding me back, telling me it's not time yet. Plus, I'd like to speak to him when I do.

The whole place is dark, it lacks any signs of life. I wonder if he's even here. I know he travels a lot for work. I really hope he's enjoying what he does.

A figure appears around the corner and walks towards me. It's Catherine. What the fuck, she followed me here? I swear to God, she's like my fucking shadow! I turn my gaze back to the mansion as she stops beside me.

"I thought you might come here," she says. "Every time we come to L4 you make a visit here, don't you?" It's a rhetorical question. "Have you seen him since the war ended?"

I shake my head.

She looks towards he estate. "He must be a pretty busy guy now, huh. Why haven't you talked to him? Not that you talk these days to anyone anyways," she ends her statement with an annoyed tone.

I shrug.

We stand in silence for a good ten minutes. I hear her expel a heavy sigh. "Alright, well I'm going back. Come home soon, Trowa," and she walks away. Do I have a home?

I watch her leave. I turn my head back to the house in time to see a light turn on. Through one window on the second floor of this giant mansion, I see a figure with blonde hair ascend the staircase. This is the first time I've gotten a glimpse of him.

Quatre...

* * *

Thursday is spent getting everything set up. I made the mistake of sitting down after eating half a salad for lunch and passed out. I slept for eight minutes. I need to go see a doctor soon. These little bouts of falling unconscious are bad. I need regular, real sleep. I'll have to speak, or bring a pen and a pad of paper. This has gone on for too long. I'll go over the weekend.

* * *

I'm dressed and waiting for my turn to perform. Sometimes I feel like a sideshow freak when I'm on stage. And in many ways I am.

Tonight is a big show. Longer than our usual ones since it's Friday. I've already done my trapeze routine, and now I'm waiting to take part in another act which will be followed by mine and Cathy's daredevil knife throwing bit.

The lights go down, I make my way over to the hoop that awaits me. I place myself on it. The lights go on and the act begins. In the center of the stage are two very large black bears, and Leah the bear tamer. Three clowns, including myself, sit on metal hula hoops attached to chains.

We're hoisted up into the air, where we do little stunts of falling through the hoop. It's more like a choreographed dance really. The hoop spins as we dangle, the pull ourselves up to complete more maneuvers high above the ground while the animal act goes on below and the bears do tricks.

It's while I'm up here that I see a lone figure by the entrance of the tent. He or she is cast in shadow from the light pouring in from behind the person. I keep my eyes focused as best I can on this person while I twirl through the air. Something's telling me I know who it is, but I can't see them, just the outline of a body in the darkness.

The figure walks back out and is gone before the act is half way through. We finish our stunts, and I seat myself safely on the hoop. Lethargy and tiredness rushes over my body before we're lowered back down. I feel my grip loosen on the cold metal hoop, and I hear the collective gasp and screams of fright from the audience as my world goes black.

* * *

As I emerge from the fog, I hear the steady beeping of a heart monitor and the pressure of an IV needle in my arm. I'm in a hospital, but why? What happened? I try to open my eyes but the light hurts. I groan.

"He's awake," a male voice says. A man opens my eyes and flashes a bright light into them. Damn that hurts, fuck off.

"How is he?" I hear Catherine ask. Horrible, I feel horrible.

"Just a serious concussion. I'm surprised he didn't break anything from falling that high up," says what I assume is the doctor. "Do you know what caused the fall?" He asks.

"No, I don't. He's usually so careful," she says. "Trowa, can you please tell us why you fell?"

Damn I'm going to have to speak. "Passed out," I rasp. My vocal cords strain and send me into a coughing fit hurting my throat even more. My whole body tenses as I cough and I feel like a giant bruise, sore everywhere.

"Do you know why you passed out?" The doctor asks.

"Insomnia," comes out sounding like a gruggle.

"How long have you been having problems with sleep?"

"Months."

"How long have you been having these moments of falling unconscious?"

"A few weeks," I gruff out. Cathy sighs disappointedly.

"He hasn't been eating much either," she informs the doctor.

"Alright, I'm going to give you something to help you sleep," he says to me. "The persciption will be mild. If it's not enough contact me and I'll give you something stronger. I also recommend seeing a psychologist. Insomnia is usually triggered by emotional stress. If you like I can refer you to someone I know."

I shake my head, and that little movement feels painful, like I've been shot in the head rather than falling from some absurd height. I pinch my eyes closed tightly to fight off the pain. Cathy sighs my name, again sounding disappointed and sad. I'll take the meds, but I don't want to go to a shrink.

"You'll be staying here for the next few days," the doc tells me.

"Fine," I murmur and fall back into unconsciousness.

* * *

I spend all of Saturday drifting in and out of consciousness. It feels so damn good to sleep again. I want to stay a sleep for a long time. I don't want to wake up and deal with the world. I just want to sleep and dream. I want to fall into a deep endless sleep and just keep falling, falling, falling.

* * *

I left the hospital early this morning. Cathy drove me back to my trailer. She didn't say anything except that she got my prescription for me. The ride was quiet after that, which I was thankful for. I feel better and more rested than I have in long time.

I pick up the paper outside my trailer and go in. Scanning several pages, I see my incident posted on page seven and eight. Great, they have a photo of me as well.

I take three of pills from the bottle and lay on my bed. I just want to sleep, and I still feel like a human bruise. I hope my story isn't in too many papers. This whole thing is just so damn embarrassing.

After laying for thirty minutes I finally drift off.

* * *

Oi, I'm having trouble developing Trowa. Any suggestions would be very welcomed.


	19. So Much for Honesty

Surviving on Your Own

So Much For Honesty

Working at a salvage yard isn't th most exciting thing in the world. But I do get to use my thermal scythe to cut shit up. Ya, know the one right? It's my handheld scythe, like the one my buddy Desthscythe used to have. So yeah, I get to chop up metal for recycling while listening to my MP3 player.

I fuckin love music. Any kind of music too. Rap, hardcore, techno, death metal, classical, country, and even that horrible pop music they play in clubs. I like that nasty pop music, because its lyrics portray what I like to do, get drunk and get nasty. And their beats aren't always so bad, even if the lyrical content is for shit. But yeah, I just love music!

Hilde's finally starting to suspect me. I came from my tryst with vixen a month ago and Hilde could tell I had been up to no good. It was late so she didn't ask me much, and I of course gave her half-truths for all my answers. But since then, I haven't slowed down my drinking or my cheating. It's become more frequent now. I feel like I need it almost everyday, but not as much as I wanna drink. Being a social butterfly with a charismatic attitude makes it easy for me to meet people. Also means I can smooth talk my way into most people's pants, ha! My favorite place to pick up someone is at a bar or a club. A couple of drinks makes the whole experience more fun.

I started off just drinking on the weekends. Soon after I drank whenever I could during the week. Now, I have half a can of coke with rum even though I'm on the clock, and drinking on a job like this could be kinda stupid. Don't think of me that way, I'm not a fucking alcoholic. I don't get black out drunk when I drink, and I hardly ever drink to the point of getting sick. I can still do a everything I need to while being a little buzzed, and it makes work so much more easier to enjoy.

So here I am, cuttin shit up, buzzed, listening to music and having a pretty good time. Music makes everything better. "Well she wants to be a singer in the band, maybe I'll give the girl a hand and a microphone, looks like she's all alone," I sing aloud with my song and shuffle a little dance until I realize Hilde is trying to get my attention (1).

"Duo! Stop listening to music on the job! Now come here," she hollers at me.

I turn off my scythe, pause the music, and make my way over to her office. She's typing away when I come through the door. "We have a shipment comin' in, but one of us needs to pick it up in space and bring it back here. You wanna pick up or should I?" She asks.

"Which is easier for you?" I ask, leaning against the door.

"I don't care, either one of us could do it, and the other stay here and man the fort," she smiles at me. If she knew the things I've done behind her back she wouldn't smile like that at me.

This is a great opportunity for me to fuck around without having to worry about her catching on. "You do it, I'll stay and work on making room for the shipment," I grin at her.

"Okay, I'll be leaving tomorrow morning, and I'll be back sometime Friday," she says and resumes clacking away on her desktop.

Awesome, three days to do whatever the fuck I want.

* * *

She's gone! She's gone! Shesgoneshesgone! And while my lovely girlfriend is away, my demons shall play. I dropped her off at the space port, kissed her farewell, made room for our future shipment. That part was easier than I thought, only half a days work.

I've got a beer and I'm dressed to go out to a local bar and see what kind of person I can get into bed tonight. Boy or girl, it don't matter to me! Over the last month I've been fuckin around with more dudes. Topping them is more like it. I only bottom maybe once out of every four times.

Being a three-time survivor of rape - I refuse to call myself a victim - makes it difficult for me to bottom, unless I really, really want it. And I tend to feel cheap afterwards. If I top, then I've conquered someone, if they top me then I've been conquered.

Ack, my nuts have been hurting lately. A small cramping pain in my boys cannot be good. And motherfuck! They fuckin hurt now. Shit! Now I gotta wait this out before I leave. I may or may not have fucked some bitch two weeks ago unprotected. Not sure, the memory's a lil fuzzy. I was pretty damn wasted at the time. Hilde's the only person I fuck without the sleeve cuz she's on the pill.

I grab another beer from the fridge. The cramp in my balls hasn't let up, maybe I should just stay in tonight. Catch some TV, drink by myself, and just enjoy being alone. Only problem with that is, I think of a specific blue-eyed boy when I'm alone.

Fuckin Heero still lingers in the back of my brain! Ugh! When we first met, I hated the guy. I shot him twice and then I fuckin saved his sorry ass from that Alliance hospital. It was while we were at that boarding school that I realized he wears a mask. Similar to how I wear a mask. His hides his emotions. Mine hides the wicked creature that I am. His mask is indifference, mine is the joker.

We had gotten closer over our time together. And during the Eves War that bond became stronger. The way he'd say my name and talk to me was softer than the way he spoke to anyone else. And I saw - dare I say it - affection in his eyes when he looked at me. I was going to tell him how I felt, that I like him that way. But he was leaving with Relena. I should have known she had captured his heart.

I told him I would see him. But I just couldn't do it. Not that he fuckin cares! It's a good thing really. I probably would have ended up doing the same thing to him that I'm doing to Hilde. And that's just not fair to someone like him...or her. He deserves real deep love that can help him come out of his shell. I'm a black hole that consumes everything that's alive and well. I'm not his other half, no matter how much I wish I could have been.

* * *

Well last night ended up being a dud. Drank all the beer in the house and flipped through the Telly. I need to go on a booze run. I want some tequila. Hmm, skateboard or dirt bike, dirt bike or skateboard? Skateboard! I grab my MP3 player, plug-in my head phones, turn on the tunes, and leave the apartment.

I sing along with my music I skate down the street. I love to sing, and I don't give a flying fuck if I sound good or not. I must be quite the sight. The people I fly past either scowl or smile at me. A tallish dude, with a long ass braid, on a skateboard, singing boisterously. Whatever, I don't care what people think of me, I march to my own tune.

I come to a stop outside the closest liquor store, and kick my board up into my hand. Before I can cross the threshold, I hear someone say my name. I turn to see an old familiar face. Mihael (2). From my old gang. Holy crap, this is weird!

"Mihael," I walk up to him. "What's up? Long time no see man." We clap our hands together and bump fists. He looks the same, except for being older and the scars on the left side of his face. He's close to my height, a little shorter. Similar build, slim but made of compact muscle. I think I'm starting to broaden out as I get older.

Mihael shrugs his shoulders and says, "Nothing much. Just tryin to live and make a life for myself on this shithole, ya know? What about you? No ones seen you since the church went down. I thought you were dead dude!" He's looking at me like he's seeing a ghost.

After Solo's death, our gang broke up. Some of us were taken in by the church while the others remained on the streets. Mihael stuck with the streets. "I actually wasn't there when the fire happened. I left the colony after that though," I tell him.

His light blue eyes widen, "You mean you got out of this place...AND CAME BACK?! Why in the hell would you do that?" He yells. People walking past us send us curious glances.

I laugh, "That's a good question."

"Well, what are you doin tonight? I know this house party that's goin down later. You should come with me. You party right?"

"Fuck yeah I party. Are there gonna be sweet bitches there?" I ask grinning like a dork.

"Course man, course," he grins back at me.

Around ten o'clock at night, Mihael takes me to a house in what could be called the middle class area of L2. It's your basic two-story house, and it is jammed packed with people and blaring music. Thank God the cops here don't do shit or this would be busted up quick.

I follow Mihael through the house and throngs of people. I get a few high fives and what's ups. Hey I'm a pretty popular guy, I know a lotta people. I even receive nods of hello from guys and gals that I know, but can't remember their names for the life of me. We spend the first three hours drinking, talking with a bunch of people, and joining a few drinking games. Kings Cup is my all time fav.

"Oi, D, you said you wanted some tail, how about her?" Mihael asks nodding towards a beautiful Latina. Oh yeah, she'll do.

"You think she'd be down for our game?" I ask. He and I have something we really wanna do tonight. All we need is a willing participant.

He bobs his orange head up and down, "Hell yeah, Bianca is down for pretty much anythin." Mmm, I love sluts. Girls on this colony either sell it for a living, or give it away for free.

We make our way over to Miss Bianca. Ooo, she's a half Latina half white mix with green eyes like that. I love the exotic ones. After we pour a few shots down our gullets, some heavy flirting, Bianca and Mihael snort up a line of coke - And no, before you ask, I don't do drugs. Ever - Anyways, we finally lure Bianca to where we've wanted to get her since we entered this damn place. A vacant restroom will do. Mihael is excited, he's never done this before. Hilde and I engage in this particular act once with a good friend. I allow Shinigami to rise from me, but not take over. The demon needs to feed, and I know just how sustain him.

* * *

Well last night had been a blast until it got fuckin weird. Mihael and I double teamed that Bianca bitch in the bathroom. I got the back door and he got the front. After that is when the night turned bad for me. I was getting dressed and she climbed into the bathtub. And then fucking Mihael started pissing on her! I freaked out, and he told me that that's how they always end their encounters. I felt sick and left the bathroom half dressed and gagging.

I have plenty of my own kinks, but that's too much, just so fucked up on so many different levels. It also brought back horrible flashes of the first time I was raped. I was eight or so, and some fucker just plucked me off the street and through me in a van. What happened after that is pretty obvious, but that monster ended his abuse against me by pissing on me, and tossing me out in an unfamiliar area.

So yeah, I left the bathroom fast. I went downstairs, took a bottle of vodka and vacated the house as fast as I could.

I chugged the bottle as I walked back to mine and Hilde's place. Nausea wouldn't go away and I ended up puking half way home. I was still wasted regardless. In my drunken stumbling numbness I found myself at 5th and Maxwell again. This time I went around the corner. I was floored by what I saw.

It wasn't the vacant lot that I was hoping for. It wasn't another random store. It was a church. The same damn motherfucking church. They rebuilt it! Everything was exactly the same, the only difference was the name. I couldn't breath at first, and then rage pulsed through my system.

I ran up to it, hurled the vodka bottle as hard as I could. It shattered against the door. I wasn't satisfied yet. Everything that was on the ground near me became a projectile. When I was done, I ran. I ran the rest of the way back to my place, and drowned myself in beer.

I didn't tell any of this Mihael, whom I'm with now. I probably shouldn't hang out with a freak like him, but he's the only one from the old street gang that I've come by, so he's like family.

We're walking back from 'Taverns', a bar that's around the street from my place. And that's where we're going. With two skanks in tow. One for him, one for me.

We enter my place, and "my girl" is all over me. I hear someone say my name, and my stomach drops. I see Hilde staring, nope, she's glaring at me. She wasn't suppose to be fuckin back until tomorrow! I'm so dead. Mihael notices what's going on and what's about to go down, so he hauls the girls back outside and leaves.

"What. The. Fuck. Was. That?" She sounds madder than she looks.

"Nothing, that was just Mihael and two chicks we were at the bar with," I answer innocently.

"Why'd you bring them back here?!" She screams. "What were you going to do?!"

I raise my hands defensively. "Nothing! We were just gonna keep drinking and hanging out here," I placate.

"So you weren't going to hook up with that whore that was hanging all over you?"

"No," big fat lie #1. So much for honesty...

* * *

I ended up sleeping on the couch last night. Our fight didn't end last night after my fib, but she seemed to believe me. Yeah that whole "I never lie" thing is a crock of shit now. I just couldn't see a better way outta it.

Work is gonna blow with the tension so harsh between us like this. But I'm going out with Mihael again tonight wether she likes it or not.

I pour myself a cup of coffee and spy something in the back of the cupboard. So that's where the Baileys has been hidin! Hell I thought this shit was gone. I pour some into my coffee. Might as well make the day as enjoyable as possible, right?

* * *

Uuuuuuggghh, I've got a wicked hangover. Hit the bar too hard. At least it's Saturday which means no work. Hilde made me sleep on the couch again, so I'm full of kinks and sore spots. It's okay though, I deserve it. I went out with Mihael last night, and refused to take her along. That royally pissed her off, but I just didn't wanna be around her.

So yeah, we went to a bar. I fucked some hot guy in the back alley way. So classy. That's my name. Duo Classy Maxwell. Mihael is more fun when were not having sex with the same person. I asked him why he did that to Bianca, and he told me she always asks him to do that after they fuck.

Did I ever tell you there's a lot of fucked up people on my home colony? I think so. This just proves it, don't ya think?

I open my phone to see a text from Mihael, or Mehee as I so drunkenly dubbed him last night. He wants to hangout again tonight. Uuhhhh, hmmmm, no. I tell him tomorrow would be better. Today I'm gonna nurse my hangover with Bailys in my coffee again and try to patch things with Hilde. I don't want to sleep on the couch again, and make up sex can be so much fun.

* * *

Well, shit didn't go over as well I had hoped with Hilde. We got into another screaming match, and I drove off. I met Mihael at a bar and we got hammered. I offered to give him a ride home, which I shouldn't have. We got in my truck around three in the morning, and as I was driving him home I got hit by another car. Funny thing really, it was another drunk driver.

The fuckhead hit me on the drivers side in the middle of an intersection. Wasn't bad, but my car door is smashed. Of course the cops were called and both me and the other driver were arrested. I told Mihael to take off, which he did promptly.

So now I'm sitting in a jail cell, already been finger printed and photographed and charged with a fuckin DUI for being two times the legal limit. The cop told me I should have been black out drunk. I haven't made my one phone call yet. I don't really want to deal with Hilde.

"Mr. Maxwell, what a surprise," I hear a familiar voice. Holy shit! Noin?

I jump off the bench and approach the bars. "Hey Noin, what are you doing here?" I ask. She's in full Preventer get up.

"Well I was scanning police files at HQ and saw your name on record. Thought I might come down and see what you're in for. DUI, Duo? Tsk tsk," she scolds me playfully.

"Ya, ya. But seriously, what are you doing here, on L2? What happened with the terraform project?" I ask.

"Zechs and I decided to take a break and come back for a bit," she informs me.

I chuckle. "Tell Zechzy-poo I say hi."

She laughs, "Alright, but first lets get you out of here." I love her!

* * *

(1) "Ole Black and Blue Eyes" the Fratellis

(2) Mihael is "Mello" from Death Note. I've taken him from the DN world and placed him here. This story is not a crossover. I just want to use him because I think he and Duo would be good friends.


	20. Uncertainties

Surviving on Your Own

Uncertainties

Being suspended for a month is more than a pain in the ass. I have nothing to do, nowhere to go. Killing boredom is much more difficult than I thought it could be. I spend most of my mornings in my local gym trying to burn off steam. Try to fight this aggression out of me. I can't let something happen like what I did with Dr. Swarnson again. That was unjust and flat-out wrong on so many levels. I need to control myself.

I've been trying to get back into my meditation and katana, but it seems I've lost the focus for them. They used to be a great source of relief for me. I could find equilibrium within myself through my mediation. Through practicing my moves, posture, and stance with my katana practice I could direct any upsetting emotion through those moves, and they would fade from me like a weight being lifted. Now when I try, it's just not fulfilling. Maybe I've lost too much of my dignity.

I tried drinking at a bar that night I left Preventers HQ, and it turns out that I have alcohol flush reaction. Finished one beer and my whole face turned beet red. Goes without saying that that only made my mood worse. Can't even find an escape through booze.

Nights are the worst. I lay awake thinking about all the things I've done wrong. I wasn't able to protect Merian from death. I couldn't save my colony, or my clan. Turned my back on my comrades because I couldn't or wouldn't believe in Relena Peacecrafts peace. I fought alongside my war brothers only to turn on them once we had achieved the peace we fought for. How pathetic can I be?

A part of me wants to ask their forgiveness. Though I'm sure I already have it. I feel like I shouldn't be forgiven so easily. Our goodbyes to each other had been done quickly on my behalf. I had wanted to get out of there and as far away from them as possible. Plus, I had to destroy Nataku, and that I had wanted to do alone.

I would like to see them again, to know they're alright. Quatre seems to be doing fine. He's on the news now and then. I don't really worry about them. They're all smart determined young men like myself. When I think back to our goodbyes I can't help but imagine Maxwell's face. He had this very determined expression, like he needed to say something of great importance. Then when Relena had announced that Yuy would be leaving with her, Maxwell's face fell. He looked so sad. I'm fairly sure whatever he had to say was to Yuy, but I guess I'll never know.

Anyways, I'm going back the gym tonight to lay into their punching bag. I can't think of anything better to do with my Monday night.

A few guys there keep telling me about underground street fights. They think I should join and put myself in, but one of them has to invite and escort me in. I could definitely kick anyone's ass, but I'm a Preventer. These kinds of fights are illegal, but I think I'll go soon just to see what they're all about.

* * *

The next day, I approach Tyron, one of the men who told me about these underground fights. I tell him I want him to take me to where they are held, so I can see for myself. He doesn't know my occupation. I'm sure a Preventer, the galaxies police force, wouldn't be welcomed.

If he takes me I have one of three options. Expose the place for their underground fighting and gambling, which might get me my position back. The second option would, be to look away and let them go on doing what they please; because really, a fighting ring isn't our top priority. Or I join in, and fight. Find a channel to let my rage through so that it won't consume my soul.

Tyron agrees to take me with a wide grin. You'd think a Tuesday night would be dull but so far it's not. This place is under a bar. People bet on who they want to win. It's like a fight club of sorts. Just a bunch of sweaty men beating the shit out of each other. It's dark and dingy and reeks of body oder.

I think I might actually want to do this. I haven't had a good hand to hand fight in a long time, and no one to spar with.

Tyron nudges me with an elbow and asks, "Think you could hold your own in there?" He nods towards the two men fighting. They lack grace and strategy, it's just street fighting. This room is loud with men shouting, holding up fist fills of cash. I answer Tyron with a grunt and a single nod. One of the fighters goes down with a thud to the concrete floor that's littered with blood and sweat. The man still standing raises both fist into the air and the crowd cheers and boos.

"So em what you got, Fei," Tyron teases.

I growl, "Don't call me that."

"Who's going to be our next two fighters?" A rather obese man asks from the center of the floor where the two men had been.

I step forward and claim, "I will fight whoever dares to challenge me."

"Ah, a newbie I see," the fat man says in his shrill voice. "Who wants to show the new guy how to take a beat down?"

"I will," says a giant African man from behind me. He's huge, and his voice is deeper than another I've ever heard. But I'm not afraid of him. I can use his height and girth to my advantage. I've been trained in many fields of martial arts. I know more about fighting than any fucking bitch in here.

"Alright men, take your bets, choose the best fighter!" The announcer proclaims and people begin betting immediately. The crowd apparently has no faith in me. Hmm, well I'll just have to show them what I'm all about now won't I?

People clear way for us to battle, we discard our shirts and shoes. He's got tight jeans on, that will limit how high he can kick. I have a pair of my work slacks on, not the best but looser and less restraining than jeans. The giant black man gives me a hand motion with his fingers to come at him. I let my body fall into a defensive stance.

It's like slipping into old skin. This is what I am. This is what I live for. I am a warrior and I thrive on the battlefield.

I'm not down playing my opponent yet. I don't know his moves, and he's ripped. But I doubt he has the knowledge and training I possess.

I make a false lunge. He sends his fist flying at my head. I block it with one hand and shove the palm of my free hand into his elbow. He grunts as we both fall back defensively. The crowd has disappeared, for me it's just myself and my opponent. This is what I've been missing. Adrenaline courses through my veins.

"You are a quick one," he says in that deep voice. I say nothing.

He throws another punch. I lean back to avoid it, grab his wrist, and let my leg fly to connect with his rib cage. He stumbles a little, but not much. Come on, you've gotta be better than this! We keep dancing around each other, punching and kicking, we both land shots.

Mmmpppff! His free hand landed a blow to the side of my head. Good, I don't want an uneven match. He looks stunned, I think he was expecting that hit to knock me out, but I'm stronger than he thinks.

One punch to the side of his stomach, I jump up to land another to the side of his head. He swings at me, but I block every blow. Ugh, this is almost unsatisfying. He's big, but he's slow. He depends on his might, no intelligence behind his fighting technique. Barton and Yuy had good fighting technique, even Maxwell. His was all street fighting, but he is smarter than he lets on. I never sparred with Winner.

I think I'll end this distasteful fight. I drop down, landing and balancing gracefully on my hands and swing both legs towards my opponents. I knock him over and onto the floor. Jumping up, I crouch over him and lay in a fury of vicious punches to both sides of his head. He falls unconscious quickly.

I force myself to stop even though I want to pummel his face until he's unrecognizable. I must stop, I must have control.

The basement is silent. As it should be, I just took down a man thrice my size. You all underestimated me, and that is your greatest mistake. The obese man steps forward again, "Well, we have a winner. What's your name?" He asks.

"My clan name is Chang. That's what you can call me," I respond. The crowd cheers even though the bet on my loss. They must like seeing the proverbial underdog win. So why don't I feel better about this? They're cheering around me, I feel the room spinning, they know now not to misjudge me. So why does this anger rise even now. Why am I just so damn unsatisfied?

* * *

It's Wednesday and shits no better today. I stick to my boring routine. I've tried getting a hold of that bitch Une, but every time I call I get her secretary. I just want this suspension bullshit over. I need to do something. I want to be back on the job. I'm bored and restless. Maybe I should call Sally...

I whip out my cellphone and dial her number. Come on, pick up already.

"Hello," she greets.

Suddenly I feel nervous and foolish for calling. "Hi Sally, it's Wufei," I say.

She chuckles, "Yeah, I know. What's up?"

"Nothing, I was just wondering if you've heard anything about when my suspension might be over?" I ask.

She sighs on the other end, "No, I haven't heard anything. I'm surprised Commander Une has kept you off duty for this long though."

"Yeah, me too," I gruff out.

There's a pause and then she asks, "How are you doing, Wufei?"

"Fine, I guess. Just really bored. Don't have much going on, you know?"

Sally laughs again, "You need a social life, hon."

I make a dismissive sound and roll my eyes. "Yeah sure, I'll get right on that."

Another pause, I'm not good with conversating."Why don't we meet up and have dinner somewhere? You sound like you could use the company."

"Uh, um, alright." Smooth Chang, real smooth.

"Alright then, how does Chucks Diner at six thirty sound?"

"That's fine by me. See you then," I hang up.

* * *

Dinner with Sally had been good. She filled me in on things I'd been "missing". We talked a lot and that felt nice. I even laughed a little. That felt really good. Maybe I do need more of a social life.

She noticed a bruise on my face and my scrapped up knuckles. I told her I sparred with someone from my gym. Admitting to being in an underground fight ring Tuesday night would not bode well for me. I kind of want to go back and do it again. At least until my suspension is lifted and I can go back to my normal life again.

Sally said she would talk to Une for me and try to get me back on duty, but that was before the incident occurred. Everything had been going fine until we left. As we were exiting the restaurant a man was entering and shoved Sally. She hadn't been hurt, but I still lost my cool. Ended up punching the guy in the stomach and screaming in his face. Sally had to drag me out.

She told me to get a grip on my rage before stalking off. I went back to my apartment.

So far today I haven't done much. I've decided to go back to the bar that houses the fights. Maybe a few rounds will help me feel better.

As I'm about to leave my apartment, my cell phone rings. It's Une!

"Hello Commander," I say calmly.

"Chang, I'm appointing you to guard duty. You're to be at Miss Peacecrafts estate Saturday evening at seventeen hundred hour. She's holding some sort of dinner affair, and you're to be assigned to her guard detail for the night."

"Alright." We hang up. Fucking guard detail? What do I look like, a damn babysitter? Whatever, it's better than nothing, I guess. If I want to make it to the bar I better go now.

* * *

The fights last night were better than the one I had my first night there. I fought in three separate rounds against three different men. The last had been the most satisfying. A man who actually knew how to battle, he had some technique that I recognize as training in Jiu Jitsu. I won all three fights and have quickly become the crowds favorite.

This time it actually helped me level out my stress and anger, along with the call from Une I had received earlier. I left the bar last night feeling great until I returned to my empty apartment.

Finally going to be back on duty - even if it's what I consider babysitting - is good. I'll have to prove my self-control over my rage, and I'll have to still meet with a therapist. Probably not Dr. Swarnson, I doubt she'd ever want to see my face again after the way I blew up at her. I don't want to see her either. I didn't like her, at all. But that's still no excuse for doing what I did.

No point on dwelling on it. Tomorrow I'll be at the Peacecraft manner keeping an eye out for danger while the politicians and business moguls enjoy their soirée.

* * *

When I arrived at Relena Peacecrafts home, I was greeted by her.

"I didn't know you'd be coming Wufei," she smiled at me.

I shook her hand. "It's good to see you Miss Peacecraft."

"Call me Relena, please," she insisted. "I'm glad you're here, even if it is for work. There will be a surprise for you, so I hope you will station yourself in the banquet hall."

"What so you mean a surprise?" I ask warily. I don't need any surprises on a job like this.

She chuckled, "You'll see." And then she left to prepare for the evening. "Enjoy the Hors d'oeuvres!" She called over her shoulder.

I did as she said to and stood guard at one end of the banquet hall, watching as politicians, diplomats, and business men filed in. It was rather dull, as I was expecting. That is, until I turned and saw Quatre walking towards me. I was shocked, and a little miffed that Relena didn't tell me he was attending tonight. I guess this is my surprise. I would have gone elsewhere if I knew one of my former comrades would be here.

"Hello Wufei," he greeted me with a smile that reached his blue eyes.

I nodded. "Winner."

"How are you? It's been a long time," he says while averting his gaze over to the small mass of people gathered at the other side of the banquet hall.

I shrug, "Fine, just working." I bury my bruised hands into my pockets. "How about yourself?" I ask.

His shoulders slump a bit as he speaks. "I'm doing fine, just working a lot as well." He's silent for a moment before asking, "Do you enjoy working with the Preventers?"

I bob my head. "Yes, it's very fulfilling." Until you're put on suspension, but I'm not about to tell this to him. Or about the little fighting club I've joined. "Do you like your position in your father's company?" I ask.

"Yes and no," he sighs. That's a surprise to me. I figured he'd enjoy it a lot. If there was a business owned by my family I would gladly work for it. But my family and my clan are dead, so here I am. "I don't enjoy the endless paperwork and meetings, or being in front of the camera for the media, but I do like thinking the work we do is good for people somewhere," he continued.

I ask, "So all you do is work?" I figured a guy like him would have more of a social life than me.

"Yes," he says. I guess I was wrong. He seems uncomfortable and changes the subject by asking, "Have you heard from the others?"

I straighten my back and reply, "No, have you?"

"No, you're the first one I've spoken to since our goodbyes here in Brussels a year and a half ago." Again, I find this intriguing. I would have expect him to stay I'm contact with at least Barton or Maxwell. "I did see Trowa though, yesterday," he informs.

"You didn't speak with him?" I ask eyeing him suspiciously.

He sighs, "No, I watched him perform with his circus briefly, and then left." A melancholy expression dawns on his features. Why does this make him sad, I wonder.

I clear my throat. "I should go look around the perimeter and check what's going on in the security room," I mumble my excuse to leave his presence.

"Okay," Winner extends his hand and we shake. He smiles at me as he says, "We should stay in touch Wufei. I've missed you." I nod in response. Guilt washes over me, but so does a twinge of happiness. It's nice that he still sees me as a comrade after all this time, and after all I did.

I leave him to the festivities and make my rounds. I avoid being in the banquet hall as much as possible. As nice as it was to see him, I would like to avoid further conversation, but at the same time I don't want to avoid him. We make eye contact a few more times across the room. At on point he held up his champagne glass and waved at me. I smirked, I think he's had too much to drink. A little while later I watch as he's dragged out to the hall by that freak named Dorothy Catalonia. He didn't seem pleased. After that I left to make another round, and didn't see him when I returned to the hall.

Relena approached me with a small smile. "Quatre said to tell you goodbye. He left in a bit of a hurry. I think the alcohol got to him."

I shrug. I wish he had stayed to say goodbye personally.

* * *

Reading the Sunday paper, I come a across and small article about a circus performer whom injured himself during a performance in front of a large crowd. I recognize the circus troupe as Barton's, I hope it wasn't him who is injured, though I couldn't really see him getting injured. He was always so flawless in his stunts.

I turn the page to continue reading the article, and holy shit! There's a picture of Trowa! He's the one that fell and got injured! I wonder if Quatre knows...

* * *

_Wufei's underground fight club was inspired by - you guessed it - Fight Club_


	21. Worst Days

Surviving on Your Own

Worst Days

Covering for Noah has turned into a daily thing. He's got more guys to lift stuff. We don't need new shit everyday, but Noah's got more clients, so he's building a supply. I don't really mind covering for him. Apparently he's been at this for a long time, way before he included me.

Maybe I should mind, but I practically live with him and Landi now. They have a very strange relationship. He lets her have sex with me. I didn't ask to, she just kinda started sucking him off right next to me, and then she was doing it to the both of us. She said were lucky we don't get "dopedick". I guess some guys can't get it up when they're high. For me, it's the most arousing feeling in the world. I shot up here at work an hour ago. I know it's dumb, but seriously, who's going to notice?

Anyways, the sex with Landi is interesting...I told her I was sure of being gay, but she didn't care. She's always the one to initiate, and I never say no.

Good, they're done. I erase the footage of some of Noah's guys snagging more product and cover my tracks. Noah's not in today, I don't know why.

Someone opens my office door, fuck I forgot to lock it. I look up, and I'm not happy with who I see.

"Heero," he says.

"Lightening Count," I reply.

He rolls his eyes at me. "I don't go by that anymore."

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is it Agent Wind? Millardo Peacecraft? Or is it Zechs Marquise?" I feign an apology.

He crosses his arms and glares at me. "When did you get such a snarky attitude?"

I shrug and make a sound that sounds like "I dunno".

He growls, "What the hell is the matter with you?"

"Nothing," I snap back. "Get the fuck out of my office!"

"My sister would appreciate a call from you. God knows why," he turns and leaves. Er, I fucking hate him.

I do owe Relena a call. I locked my office door, snort a fat bump and call her...

..."Heero, I have to go," Relena says. What the fuck? How long have we been on video chat? What did I say? Did I blackout though the whole conversation? Shit, this isn't good, she looks concerned.

"Alright Relena, take care," I end the call. The time of the call flashes 21:56. I freaking talked to her for twenty minutes and can't remember a damn thing! This is bad...

I focus, as much as possible, on work for the rest of the day.

Noah and Landi are waiting for me in the parking garage.

"Hop in," Noah smiles at me. I smile back and climb into the back seat.

"We're going to a party! Oh, don't look like that Hee-kun, we know it's a work night, we won't go that hard," Landi bounces in the passenger seat.

I sigh, "I guess it would be nice. Had a shit day today."

"Aw, why?" She asks, giving me puppy dog eyes.

I roll my eye and mutter "Relena" without even thinking.

Landi's eyes bug out. "You mean the Vice Foreign Minister?! What the hell she want with you?"

I try to shrug her off, but she persists. I lean in a little and whisper loudly, "I'm a former Gundam pilot."

"Pft! Oh really? Then which one were you?" She thinks I'm joking.

"Pilot zero one," I say with a smirk.

She rolls her eyes at me. "Okay, mister savior of the world, whatever you say." I chuckle a little as she turns to face forward, and I catch Noah's green eyes in the rear view mirror. He looks shocked and a little scared. He believes me. I pull my old blank gaze on, and lift my chin, as if to dare him to say anything.

He doesn't.

We arrive at a warehouse in a rundown part of town. Sweet, I like warehouse parties. Landi goes in ahead of us, and Noah pulls me off to the side. He eyes me carefully before speaking. "You know how I've got a bunch of shit stashed?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I have this awesome idea of how to sell it all over a few days and make a lotta doe," he says excitedly. "We go to L2 and sell it. Drugs there go for twice as much as they do here. We could take a coupla days off and fly there. Only problem is getting the shit through customs."

I roll my eyes at him. "I don't sell, Noah."

"Yeah, yeah, I know that. You and Landi just go with me, and I'll do all the pushin," he placate.

Mulling it over in my head, it doesn't sound so bad. I've never taken a day off yet. "I can get us past security and customs," I tell him.

Noah's eyes light up. "Seriously? How?"

"I've got my own shuttle in a private terminal."

"How'd you manage that?" He asks. I give him a look that tells him not to ask again, or expect an answer. "Right, right, you're a...whatever," he dismisses, flipping his hand. "So lets go in two days, yeah?"

I nod in agreement. Noah pats me on the back with a wide grin as we enter the warehouse. There's a good amount of people here already. A DJ has already set up and started playing his tunes. Looking around, I notice most of the people here are kids my age and younger.

I stick with Noah for while as he sells all kinds of shit to these kids. We share a couple of joints while making rounds before I notice something different. The walls are melting in swirls, and the colorful glow in the dark necklaces and bracelets these kids are wearing are tainting their skins and changing color. I'm also leaning heavily against Noah, whose got his arm wrapped around my shoulders to help me balance.

"I'm hallucinating," I slur into Noah's ear.

He smiles at me. His smile twists and his teeth glow way too bright. "I know, me too. It's the ketamine!"

My head feels heavy. "Keta-wha?"

"Special K my friend. Don't worry, I won't last more than an hour," he assures.

It suddenly feels really hot in here. My breaths come out as shallow pants, and I can feel my blood pulsing through me in tune with the music. I keep swallowing as saliva seems to be constantly building up in my mouth. I'm not sure if I like this.

Noah whistles loudly, like he's calling someone over. I guess he did because Landi came bouncing out of no where.

"Here take 'im, and help him out. I don't think he's diggin the K!" He yells so she can hear him over the drum and bass.

Her brow furrows and a frown graces her pale face. "What you give him that shit for?" She fumes. Landi takes me by both hands and leads me through the throngs of dancing, sweaty teenagers. She pushes me into a bathroom that's for a single person, and backs me up against the sink.

"You okay?" She asks with one hand on either side of my face. I nod, not trusting my mouth to speak.

I turn around to wash my face and gasp at my reflection. My skin looks pale and damp, my hair way more tousled than normal, and my pupils are fucking huge. They look like shark eyes. A wave of nausea comes up out of nowhere. I barely stumble to the toilet in time. Landi rubs my back and holds my bangs out of my face, cooing and soothing me until I'm done vomiting.

"Feel better now, huh?" She smiles softly at me. Her hair is living and breathing on its own.

"Uh-huh," is all I manage to say.

"You seein shit?" She asks while laughing.

"Uh-huh." I get up and rinse out my mouth with water from the skin and splash my face. She hands me paper towels.

"Come dance with me," she holds her hand out, and I take it.

We dance until we're covered in sweat, our shirts sticking to us. The K finally wore off. After a while, Landi and I ascend a staircase to find Noah. We find him on the second floor with a bunch of people sitting on ratty couches around a circular table. All sorts of powders and pills are strewn about the table and the floor is littered with cigarette butts.

"Hey, we wanna hit," Landi whispers in Noah's ear, and licks it. He kisses her on the lips as he says "Okay."

We go through the process. Spoon, water, H, spoon, heat, needle, find a vein, take the plunge. Only mine and Noah's is spliced with more ketamine. Says K-land is fun. I sit on the couch next to some guy who shares his cigarette with me. I like the way menthol cigarettes feel cool going in. Seems like most of the people here are too stoned to move. We're all a collective lump of heroin induced zombies. All except for a few. It feels too soon, but I drift off into unconsciousness.

Waking up, and the sun is burning my eyes, my cell phone ringing off the hook. It's Noah. "Hello?" I answer in a groggy voice.

"Dude, where are you? I told our boss you were out sick today, so I've got you covered, but where the fuck are you?" He sounds mildly panicked.

I open my eyes to see the other side of the colony with fake puffy clouds in the "sky". I'm somewhere outside. "I dunno," I say. Looking around, I see that I'm laying on concrete, on a roof?

"You disappeared on us last night! Landi was freakin out!" He rants. "Just get to my place. We leave for L2 tomorrow remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." My voice is hoarse and worn out. We hang up, and I lay still for a few moments. My whole body feels sore.

As I try to sit up, pain radiates from my lower extremities, more specifically my backside. I gasp, and roll onto my side. What the hell? There's a seeping sensation between my thighs, and oh fuck please don't let this be what I think it is. I reach in to the back of pants. withdrawing my hand, there's a milky pink diluted substance on the tips of my fingers. Fuck.

I rest my cheek against the concrete as my breathing becomes erratic. This isn't happening. I'm too strong to let this happen, no matter what I'm under the influence of. This isn't fucking happening.

I lay there for a good twenty minutes before forcing myself to stand. Everything hurts, it feels like I've been torn and cut on the inside. I limp through a door and down some stairs, and realize I was on the roof of the warehouse. Making my way slowly to the ground floor, I find the restroom. My reflection greets me as I push the door open.

I look like a train wreck. My eyes, bloodshot. My shirt button up sloppily, some buttons in wrong holes. I just realized I have no shoes or socks on. My pants are unbuttoned. There's bruising around my throat. My bottom lip is busted, a large scab crusted over. I turn away and leave the warehouse.

I limp to the nearest bus stop and wait. Somehow I still have my wallet. The bus comes and I get on. Resting my head against the window, I try not to think as I wait for my destination to approach. The hospital comes too soon, and I disembark.

I signed a fake name to the register, claiming I need an emergency check up. How can a check up be an emergency? I don't know, but the nurse took one look at me and didn't argue it. My "name" is called, and I follow a somewhat overweight African nurse to a room.

"So what seems to be the matter?" She asks eyeing my visible injuries.

I open my mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

"Where you assaulted?" She asks. I grit my teeth and nod. "Where you sexually assaulted?" Again I just nod.

"Okay honey, I want you to change into the gown and lay on the table when you're done," she soothes me with a gentle voice.

I do as she's told me to, and she comes back in the room five minutes later.

"Do you want to report this?" I shake my head 'no'. "May I collect the evidence and photograph your injuries in case you change your mind?" I nod my head after a few unresponsive moments.

"Alright honey, I need you to open your legs, and put your feet in the stir ups."

I lay still, squinting my eyes shut tightly, hands clenched into fights at the side of the hospital gown. She tells me they're going to test the semen for any sexually transmitted diseases, and that they'll have the results in twenty minutes. Thank you, modern medicine. There's tearing, she sows me up with sutures that will dissolve slowly.

When we get to the photographing part, I flinch at every flash of light. There are more bruises that I hadn't noticed yet, on my hips, between my thighs, and on my lower back. Another nurse comes in the results and passes them to my nurse.

"The semen revealed no diseases or infections, so you're clean," she gives me a sad smirk. "But the test also showed four different DNA donors." Four? As she continues speaking, I gaze at the muted television over her head. Headline news, "Winner Heir Forced Out of Company for Gambling Away $10 Mill". Looks like I'm not the only one enduring the worst day of their life.

"Are you sure you don't want to report this?" The nurse asks me again.

"I don't want to," I whisper. She nods her head sadly, tells me I'm good to go.

Another bus ride and I'm finally at Noah's. him and Landi are at work. Good, I need to be alone. I hurriedly cook myself up a batch and inject it into my arm since its the easiest vein to find.

I collapse on the bed. I want to cry, but I can't. This is all my fault.


	22. 18 Months & 22 Days

Surviving on Your Own

18 Months &22 Days

It's been eighteen months and twenty-two days since I blew up Desthscythe. Is it possible to feel like you've lost apart of yourself after destroying a mecha? I think so, I feel like I've lost my right arm.

Anyways, Hilde found out about my little DUI from last month by rifling through my mail. Bitch found my summons to court. Can't freakin wait to do that. They'll probably sentence me to classes, AA, and community service or some shit. It had been cool seeing Noin though! She bailed me out, and took me to breakfast. See thinks I have a drinking problem. Ordering a Bloody Mary at nine a.m. didn't help my image any, but I had a hangover! Those drinks are like, the mother of all cures for hangovers.

So yeah, Hilde found out. She's not happy about it, and I think she knows I'm lying to her. I've told thirteen lies since my first one. All of which are to Hilde. Our relationship is under more strain than ever now. The sex is like virtually gone between us, and all we do is bicker and fight. Plus, I go out with Mihael almost every night, and Hilde hates him.

Though I'm not having sex with Hilde, I'm still doin the horizontal - occasionally vertical - tango with plenty of other people. It's too damn easy to find people who wanna have a good time and get down and nasty.

"Hey, whatcha makin?" I hear Mihael ask from behind me. We're spray painting in a sewer trench that's already riddled with graffiti. He's been painting dumb shit like "I fucked your mom here". Genius.

"That looks like one of them Gundams," he says. Yes, Einstein, it is, and it's the most bad ass one. It's small, not a big fuckin mural, which my buddy deserves.

"Yup," is all I say.

"Looks good, ya ever wonder who the pilots were?"

"Nope."

"Well I do, I heard they were like real young and shit. Musta had tough lives to be able to fight against all odds and come out victorious," he kneels down beside me.

"We had pretty tough lives," he murmurs.

"Yeah, we did," I whisper. I don't really wanna go down that road and reminisce about our past, but I don't think I'll have a choice.

Mihael laughs a mirthless chuckle. "You 'member how strict Solo used to be on drugs and whorin?"

I nod my head. "Yeah, he didn't want us kids gettin mixed up in that kinda shit."

"Yeah, but most of us whored at some point. Had ta. I did, did you?" He looks me dead in the eye. I want to lie again, but I haven't lied to him yet, and it's harder to lie when you're staring at someone this close.

"I did it a few times," I shrug. "But I never came back with money. I always spent it on food and brought it back for the whole gang. Solo woulda known for sure if I came back with a fat wad of cash."

Mihael chuckles that sad laugh again. "Yeah, he woulda. That's the only time I ever had sex with men. I dunno how you do it."

Now I make a sad sounding laugh. "Sometimes I dunno how either. I just like anything on two legs with a pretty face and a pulse." This makes him snort out a real laugh. Good, at least I can still find humor in such a serious conversation.

Our not so enjoyable reminiscing is cut short. Blue and red lights are flashing, illuminating us in the dark. Like hell if I'm gonna get busted by the cops again.

"Run!" We both scream at each other and bolt. I toss my half empty bottle of vodka.

We run up the side of the trench, and climb over a chain link fence. Mihael runs to the left, and I go straight. I don't get very far, and the pig mobile stops two inches away from taking my legs out. The cop jumps out of his car, draws his weapon and yells, "Freeze, put your hands up!" I comply immediately.

He walks towards me, gun still aimed at my chest. Fucking hate being at the wrong end of a pistol. "Drop to your knees, and put your hands behind your head!" Again, I'll play good boy, and do as he says.

Mr. Piggy - and he's a fat son of a bitch too, probably shoulda kept running - makes his way behind me, grasp my wrists and cuffs me. He hauls me up, and pats me down. I hate this part, I always feel molested. He removes my wallet and roughly puts me in the backseat of his cruiser. God motherfucking damn it.

Officer Pig looks up my rap sheet and talks into his walkie talkie. This is fan-fucking-tastic, just what I need, another damn run in with L2's finest.

He turns to look back at me through the mesh looking cage that separates us. "Underaged drinking and driving. DUI plus a vandalism charge might actually land you a small stint in jail." He turns off the camera that watches the front of his vehicle. "You must want to avoid that at all costs, hmm?" Oh, fuck. He's beady little ugly eyes are appraising me as he licks his sweaty lips.

I do want to avoid that. I cringe and say through gritted teeth, "Yeah, I do."

"Well handsome, maybe we can come to an arrangement," leers the sweaty fat fuckhead.

I know where this is leading to, and I don't think I've got much of a choice. "I have AIDS," I lie, lie number fourteen. Though it's not too threatening, we've got a cure for that now, but still no one wants to get it.

"I got a rubber," he smiles at me. His teeth are fucking nasty. Every hear of a toothbrush?

He gets out of the car and comes around to the backseat. "Lay on your stomach, handsome," he orders as he opens the door. I could kick him, try and run again, pick the cuffs off when I'm safe, but the fucked has my I.D. with my name and address.

I nod my head and do as he says. Pig pulls my pants and boxers down to my ankles without undoing them. He pets my hair and gropes my ass, as his breathing turns into pants already. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, I don't want to do this. My heart is pounding heavily in my chest, my mouth is dry, and I feel like I'm about to cry. I won't though, I won't cry in the face of this, it's only the panic that's making me want to do so.

I hear him tear a condom wrapper. Okay, okay, shit this is going to happen. I do what I used to when I found myself having to whore around, I force my mind to go somewhere else, block out what's happening. I'm trying to find a happy mental place to go when he shoves it in. Fuck! I can feel myself tearing a bit, and he groans over me. God, he could have at least taken the cuffs off.

Happy place, happy place, gotta find a happy place. Aw, gawd he even grunts like a pig. Somehow my mind leads me to the other pilots. I think of Quatre running his dads business and his million sisters. Must be nice to have a home and a family. I think of Wufei and how we used to bicker with each other. I used to bug the crap outta him on purpose, but I think he liked the attention. I think about Trowa and hope he's okay. I heard about his accident in the circus on and online news site. Couldn't believe it at first, seemed so unlikely to happen to a guy like him. I think about Heero, and how he's doing with Relena. I think about how his blue eyes were the bluest I've ever seen. Blue like the vast unyielding ocean.

It lasts for what seems like forever. And then there's a tug on my hands, my wrists are free. Oh thank God, this is over. My shirt is damp from his sweat, and I feel extremely nauseous. He slaps me on the ass and says, "Alright handsome, get outta here."

I pull my pants back up, retrieve my wallet from his sweaty hands and briskly walk away. I'm starting to really hate my life. I need a fucking drink. I stop by a liquor store and purchase a bottle of whiskey. The clerk didn't even ask for my I.D. Good, cuz I don't have my fake anymore. Gulping down the bitter-sweet substance helps to calm my nerves.

By the time I walk into the apartment I've drunk a good chunk of it.

"You're drinking again?" Hilde asks from the couch. She looks irritated.

I snarl. "Yeah, so what?" I bite out.

She glares back at me. "What's your fucking problem?"

"Bad night," is all I say as I head for the bathroom. I need to wash this filth off me.

I slept on the couch of my own volition. Well, more like tossed and turned. Ugh, I don't want to go to work today. I just want to lay here and do nothing.

Hilde comes out of our bedroom. "You're not up yet?" She asks.

"I don't really feel like going in today," I reply.

"Well you have to. I have a doctor's appointment this morning, I haven't been feeling well lately, so you gotta go."

I sigh, "Fine." And she vacates our apartment without another word.

I get ready for work with the morning news playing on the telly. I'm about to turn it off when Quatre appears on the screen.

"Winner heir is forced to leave his position as CEO of Winner Enterprise Inc, for gambling away ten million dollars of the company's money," informs the female news anchor. The play footage of Quatre being lead out of a building by security guards. Reporters swarm him as he makes his way to his limo. He doesn't say anything to them, and he looks so ashamed. Holy fucking shit...I can't believe this.

I worked through the morning in a haze. Just couldn't stop thinking about curly-Q. I even sent him an email telling him that if he needs anything I'm here for him. With all this clouding my mind I couldn't stay. Hilde never came in, and she isn't answering my calls, so I closed up shop after our usual lunch hour.

I notice a moving van in our drive way as I come around the corner on my motor bike. What the fuck? Three of Hilde's close girlfriends are closing the van up as I approach. They glare daggers at me. What the hell did I do? I don't bother to ask, and walk into our place.

Jesus Christ! All of her shits gone! What the fuck is going on?! She steps out of our bedroom, hands behind her back. She looks like she's been crying, a lot.

"Babe, what's going on?" I ask.

"Come here Duo," she says softly.

I walk up to her and rub her upper arms. "Are you leaving me?" I ask, trying to look in her eyes, but she's avoiding me.

She pulls me into a tight hug, and -FUCK! I fall on the floor gasping, and grasping my nuts. Bitch just need me in the fucking balls! I look up at her to cuss the shit out of her, but what I see in her hands makes me choke and all thought leave my mind. In one hand, she's holding a pair of scissors. I her other hand is a good chunk of my...

She throws down the end of my braid to the floor. My hair falls loose around my face. "That's for the gonorrhea!" Hilde screams at me.

She stomps her way to the front door, all I can do is stare at my hair, laying on the ground. "Oh, and you're fired!" She screeches and slams the door behind her. I listen as the van drives away.

My whole body is shaking. With fear, outrage, or sorrow, I'm not quite sure. The DUI, that cop from last night, gonorrhea? I have fucking gonorrhea? She chopped half my braid off...she fucking cut it off...this is too much to take. A blood curdling scream falls from my mouth.

* * *

Caseycuervo: I'm sorry Duo

Duo: Um, fuck you. Don't talk to me.


	23. Take Off

Surviving on Your Own

Take Off

I've replayed what happened at Relena's over the past month. It took two days to wash Dorothy's lipstick off my penis. I felt filthy for a week. And now things have only gotten worse.

When I came into my office this morning something just felt off. Everyone seemed to be avoiding eye contact with me, or they would give me a wide berth as I strolled through the halls. About thirty minutes into my usual work day I was called into a board meeting.

It all kind of happened really slow, and really fast at the same time. I felt like I was watching everything happen around me through a fog. The board members told me they had watched how I spent some of the company's money. They knew I started gambling shortly after I took up the position of CEO. Apparently, I have lost a total of ten million dollars. Out of an almost five hundred billion dollar company, that's not so much, but they "don't want to see me escalate". They unanimously voted me out of my position, basically firing me. Since it is my father's company, they decided to give me a one hundred million dollar severance deal.

That's not so bad really. I feel like I should be freaking out, maybe I'm just numb. Two security personal have shown up to escort me out of the building, that's really unnecessary. Half way through the lobby I can see reporters, cameras, and microphones outside. This is when the panic sets in. Someone's already leaked my fuck up to the media, and now I have to face this alone.

The two men escort me as far as the door. Pushing it open, I'm instantly assaulted by flashes of light and questions.

"Mister Winner, do you have a gambling problem?" Obviously.

"Mister Winner, did WEI give you any kind of severance?" Yes.

"Mister Winner, what are you going to do now?" I don't know.

"Mister Winner, who's going to be taking your place? Is it one of your sisters?" I don't fucking know.

Stop calling me "Mister Winner"! I'm not my father. Just let me through to my fucking limo so I can leave!

"Mister Winner, how do you think your father, Zayeed Winner, would feel about your struggles with gambling?" I stare at the male reporter who just asked that question. Honestly, I don't even want to think about it. I've failed him in every way possible.

I don't answer a single question. Forcing my way through the crowd, I get to my limo and climb inside. My driver, Hank, gives me a pitiful look. *Are you ashamed?* Yes, of course.

I gaze out the window for a while, and I suddenly notice were halfway to my estate. "Hank," I call, "take me to the spaceport, to my private terminal please."

Hank eyes me from the rear view mirror. "Where are you going?" He asks.

"I don't know yet. Just take me there," I order. He nods and continues driving.

As we approach the terminal, I instruct Hank to drive up to my private craft. I climb out of the limo and into my Shuttle. Space suit on, everything checked and ready to go, command center gives me the okay to take off. The doors of the terminal open up, allowing me sight of the vast void that is space. Engines checked, thrusters on. I'm leaving this colony, but I don't know where I'm going yet. *You can't just run away* Watch me. I take off.


	24. Problems

Surviving on Your Own

Problems

I got lucky last night. And no not in the crude way you're thinking. That's how Maxwell thinks. I got lucky in way that saved my job. I had been going to that stupid fight club for a while, became a regular. Undefeated champion too. I was the crowds favorite.

Anyways, I was running a little late to the bar. As I rounded the corner, I saw police cruisers blocking the front of the place. Officers swarmed all over the place, cuffing people and putting them in the back of their squad cars. I flipped back around and walked briskly the other way. Shit! If I had been busted along with that place, then I would have lost my damn job for sure!

It's for the best though, I know that. People were already starting to ask questions about my constant fresh variety of bruises. Plus, I'm going to Relena's for lunch today, and it would do no good to show up black and blue on her doorstep. She's asked me to personally visit. I'm not really sure why, but I'm about to find out.

A butler answers the door. "Mister Chang Wufei?" I nod in confirmation. "Follow me," he requests. The butler leads me to the back patio where Relena is seated and waiting for me. She looks deep in thought and doesn't notice my presence until I'm beside her.

"Oh, Wufei. Thank you for coming, have a seat." The worried expression on her face only fades a little. "Here, have some tea and some sandwiches. These ones are ham, and the others are turkey."

She pours me a cup of tea, and I pick up a ham sandwich. "You look worried, Relena. What's wrong?" I ask before biting into my lunch.

She lets out a lofty sigh. "I was going to ask you if you could reach Heero for me, but now I'm worried about Quatre as well."

"Why are you worried about them?" I question.

"I had Millardo check in on Heero while he was on L1, because he never answers my calls. He told me that Heero looked disheveled and was acting rather odd. I didn't believe him at first, but Heero called me later by video phone and he had acted out of sorts. And I'm sure you know about Quatre, it's all over the news," she tells me.

Dread slowly starts to fill the center of my chest. "Actually, I haven't heard any news today. And what do you mean by Yuy 'acting out of sorts'?"

Her blue eyes bulge at me. "Quatre's been forced to step down from his position at WEI. Apparently he has a gambling problem and lost a good chunk of their assets."

"What?!" I practically screech. I had just seen him about a month ago! He didn't say anything about this!

"Yeah, he's been kicked out of the company, and when I tried to call his cell phone the number was disconnected." She continues. "As for Heero, he seemed half conscious and slurred all his words. Between him and Quatre, I don't know who to be more concerned about. I need your help."

"I'll do whatever I can to get in contact with them. Yuy will be easier, and I'll do my best to track down Winner," I promise.

We discuss the situation further over our lunch. I'm floored by Winner's predicament, and I'm not sure what to think of Yuy. By the time I get back to HQ and my office, I'm summoned to Commander Une.

"Have a seat Lieutenant, we have an assignment for you," she discloses. Great, I've wanted a mission since getting reinstated, and it couldn't have come at a worse time.

"This is very sensitive, it involves other Preventer employees. We believe there is either some sabotage or thievery taking place." Une swipes her bangs out of her eyes and gives me a hard look.

I ask, "Which branch?"

"Our headquarters on the L1 cluster," she divulges. Une narrows her eyes at me. "Have you been in any recent contact with Heero Yuy?"

Oh fuck, what the hell is going on? "No, I have not. Why don't you have him do this assignment? He's there already," I mention.

She leans back in her chair and clasps her hands in her lap. "There's reason to believe he may be involved in what's taking place there."

No fucking way, she's nuts! Yuy's the most straight-laced guy out of all of us. "What exactly is going on?"

"It's been brought to our attention that security footage keeps going missing in the evidence locker. Usually about ten to fifteen minutes of footage disappears, and this has been happening for a little over six months. A quick scan of all evidence material revealed that nothing had been stolen or switched out with false evidence. But that didn't make sense to me. I ordered a few people up there to double check evidence that was either being released, or destroyed," she informs.

"And?" I implore.

Une begins to rock in her seat. "Well evidence that was being releases, such as things of value or sentimental value, to families who had lost someone to, lets say, murder wasn't going missing. So, they created two check lists for drugs and weapons that were to be destroyed on site," she pauses before continuing. "One check list for those put in for the to be destroyed pile, and one to check off that they were, indeed, destroyed as they were going through the process of loading the furnaces."

My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can feel perspiration break out on my brow. "What did they find?" Goddamnit Yuy, if you're involved with illegal weapons trade I'm going to fucking flip.

She takes a deep breath. "They found that a good amount of drugs that were suppose to be incinerated had vanished."

Drugs? "How does Yuy fit into all of this?" I ask befuddled.

"The security footage is being sabotaged in-house," she says. "Who ever is doing it, isn't leaving a trace. We both know how good he is with computer systems. In fact, he's working in the Computer Science department." This isn't looking good. Marquis told Relena that Yuy had acted strange, and she agreed...

I cross my arms over my chest. "What do you want me to do Commander?"

"You're to leave for L1 Lagrange Point in two days, you'll be stationed there until this mission is over. Make contact with Heero, and try to find out if he's part of the team of people who are stealing the drugs. We believe there are more than one persons involved in this operation."

"Alright," I nod my head.

"I hope your former affiliation with Heero doesn't blind you along the way. Your dismissed."

I get up and leave her office. What is going on? First Barton's accident. Now Yuy's possibly involved with some drug ring? And Winner gets kicked out of his father's company? Fuck, I thought I had problems...


	25. The Chase

Surviving on Your Own

The Chase

The sleeping pills have been a blessing and a curse over the past month. Manager has taken me out of the shows all month-long, says I'll be good to perform in a few more weeks. I don't really care though. I've just been spending my time sleeping.

Catherine comes over every night to make sure I eat dinner. Some of my appetite has come back, but not much. She stays and chats with me, though I rarely reply to her, but I do appreciate it. I apologized for my behavior. She seemed grateful for that.

Sleeping again is great when I don't dream. Not all are bad, but when they are, they're horrible. Most of my nightmares have to do with Quatre. They're almost always about the time he nearly killed me with Wing Zero. In some of them I actually die. And I always wake up panting and drenched in sweat. The good dreams are amazing though. Most of those are about Quatre too, but some involve Wufei, Duo, or Heero. In my dreams they're all happy and enjoying the peace we fought so hard for.

Catherine just came in, with what looks like a pot of soup. She gives me a funny look. "Trowa, are you alright?" She asks. I nod my head. Why wouldn't I be?

She tilts her head. "Aren't you worried about Quatre?"

I give her a look that I'm hoping says 'what do you mean?' Cathy seems to understand my silent communication. "Haven't you seen the news?"

I shake my head as I stand, and walk over to the television and turn it on. The news station - the only channel I watch - is covering Quatre from earlier in the headline at the bottom of the screen reads "Winner Heir Forced to Step Down". What the fuck?

I turn the volume up. The news anchor tells me the board members of WEI have made him step down because he lost ten million dollars by gambling. Reporters ask him a bunch of questions, none of which he answers. The look on his soft pale face is heart breaking.

I start packing a duffel bag as quickly as possible.

"What are you doing?" Cathy asks from somewhere behind me.

"Leaving," I state.

"Leaving where?" She sounds panicked.

I turn to look at her. "I'm going to L4."

Just when I think she's about to argue with me, she nods in agreement. She envelopes me in a warm hug. "Be safe, okay?" she whispers, and leaves my trailer.

I need to get to the nearest spaceport, fast.

I had to pay an arm and a leg for the red-eye to L4. Thank God for my war funds. I arrived on colony an hour ago, and now I'm busing it to the Winner estate. I feel really anxious and awake. I left my pills behind, shit.

Once I'm off the bus I run like fucking hell. I run right up to that gate and press the intercom.

"Who are you?" The intercom asks me.

"Trowa Barton, I'm here to see Quatre," I reply breathlessly . Damn talking is hurting my throat again.

"Mister Winner is not seeing anyone right now, please leave," the disembodied intercom voice says.

I punch the wall by the intercom. "Tell him I'm here, he'll let me in! Or tell Iria, please!" I angrily yell back.

It's quiet for a few minutes and I'm on the verge of jumping over that damn fence just to get to the front fucking door when intercom man speaks again. "Iria Winner will see you."

Good! The gate opens, I jog up to the mansion. The door is open when I reach it. Iria pulls me, she looks distraught. "Where is he?" I ask.

"I have no idea," she says and her eyes fill with tears. "He had his driver take him straight to the port and he left in his private shuttle. His phone is disconnected and we have no idea where he's gone to." She begins to sob.

My duffel falls off my shoulder and onto the marble floor with a thud. I'm too late. He's gone.

I hold Iria as her cries make her entire body trembles. "We'll find him," I say into her hair. "We're going to find him." Even if I have to chase him all through the galaxy.

* * *

Hey fun fact that I just learned, or saw, whatever. If you go to gundam wiki, and look up Lagrange Points, they'll show you a map of the colonies in space in relation to earth! L3 is all by its lonesome.


	26. Neon Cathedral

Surviving on Your Own

Neon Cathedral

I laid on the hard wood floor for fuck knows how long, clutching the chopped off end of my braid. Fucking cunt! She probably would have ripped my gold cross necklace from around my neck if she could've! Getting up and stomping into the kitchen, I pour myself a glass of straight tequila.

Fuck it, I'll just drink from the damn bottle. Swig after swig after swig, and I still just want to cry. So pathetic, crying over hair...but it meant so much to me. So many physical memories tied to those strands of hair. It was what made me, me.

Walking into the bathroom, I check out the damage in the mirror. It's still long, ends at the bottom of my rib cage, but it's only half its former length. I braid it. Nope that's too short now to look good. Putting it in a ponytail isn't any better. I sigh miserably, wrapping my hair in a sloppy bun on the top of my head. That just makes me look more like those dykie girls who are too lazy to do anything productive with their hair, and leave the house in pajamas. Fucking Christ. I'll just leave down.

Sitting on the couch, I continue my drunken pity party, swallowing a mouth full of burning booze every few minutes. I don't want to feel, just want to fall into a stupor and forget about today along with the rest of my lame life.

There's knocking at the front door, but I don't move. The door opens and in steps Mihael. Prick, I want to be left alone, and who just walks into someone's place like that?

"Yo man, wha- holy shit! You cut your hair?" He exclaims.

I glare at him. "No, I didn't."

"Who then?" He asks planting himself heavily next to me. Mihael pries the bottle from my hand and drinks some of it. "Ugh, this shit's nasty."

Wrenching the bottle back, I seethe, "Then don't drink it!...and Hilde chopped my hair off."

His brown eyes widen. "Why the fuck she do that?"

I shrug. "Guess I gave her gonorrhea."

His mouth falls open, the scar around his lift eye wrinkles nastily, as he runs a hand through his orange hair. "Dude! That's horrible! We gotta get you to a clinic!"

At first I refuse, not wanting to go anywhere, but he convinces me. All I need is a single shot and in one month I'll be clean again. We ride my motorbike, Mihael drives because I'm a lot more drunk than I thought. Standing up from the couch, the world titled to the left and spun. He caught me just before I plopped back down. Keeping my arms wrapped tightly around his narrow waist, I clamp my eyes shut, the passing blurry scenery makes me nauseous.

Mihael waits with me in the stale clinic until my name is called. I stumble about behind the nurse who leads me to a private room. She takes a blood test, snarling at me in disgust. I must be quiet the lovely sight. Black tattered jeans, holes in both knees and a slash on the upper right thigh. Knee length steel toed combat boots, black shirt speckled with bleach stains. Gold cross dangling from my neck. I'm probably wreaking of tequila, but like I give a shit of what this stuck up bitch nurse thinks.

Nurse Bitchface comes back, telling me I'm positive for gonorrhea. Just great. Can't really blame Hilde so much now. But I'm still fucking pissed off at her, I'd slap her if given the chance. Bitchface injects me with the cure to my little sexually transmitted infection.

Walking out into the lobby - more like staggering - I pass Mihael. He jumps up and follows me out. Back on the bike, I tell him to hold up before he starts driving. Leaning over the side, pulling my hair back behind my neck, I shove two fingers down my throat. I'm tired of feeling sick. Forcing vomit and booze out of my system, I hear Mihael groan in disgust.

"Dude, did ya really have to do that?" He asks looking a little green himself.

Sighing in relief, already feeling better, I answer, "Yeah."

We spend the rest of the day locked in my apartment, drinking whatever is there. Mihael snorts a line of cocaine every now and then and offers me some each time. Last time he asked, I flipped on him, yelling about how I don't do shit like that. I'm already numb, I don't need ta further it with drugs.

He tells me about a shipment coming in that he wants me to help pick up and disburse."Dude, how many times do I gotta tell you I'm not into that shit?" I flabbergast, utterly annoyed at the constant returning topic.

He raises his hands defensively. "You don't gotta do the drugs man. Just sell em. Plus, you're outta a job. This could be money for in between, and it's good money too."

Pft, like I need the money. War funds, bitch. I'm loaded. "I don't need ta do it. I'm good on cash," I explain.

"So do it to help me out! As a friend! I can't push all this product with the few people I got. One more, you, would be great," he pleads.

Sometimes having friends suck donkey dick. "What are you selling?"

He grins. "Like everything. X, prescription shit, weed, acid, shrooms, coke, crack, meth and heroin. All you need to do is sell it, and come with me tomorrow to meet the guy."

"Who's this guy?" I ask and finish the last of my Budweiser.

"Just some dude from L1. He's comin in tomorrow. We're gonna meet up, and then hang out and party for a bit."

"Fine, I'll go with you, but I won't promise to sell shit. Where's the party?"

He winks at me. "Upper Eastside."

That perks my interest. "Seriously? Like how upper?"

"Like upper, upper Eastside where the few rich fuckers live on this god forsaken colony."

"Alright, I'm in."

Mihael seems to approve of that. We continue our binge until about ten at night. He tries to convince me into partying tonight, but I have no desire to be around other people, and for once I don't feel like fucking anyone. Tomorrow will be different. I've never partied on the upper Eastside. Once he's gone, I'm left in my barren apartment. Damn, Hilde took like fucking everything, even most of the food outta the fridge and cupboards. And the motherfuckin bed! Who does that? All I've got I'd this ratty couch that I've sloshed on all damn day!

Spending time alone isn't doing me no favors. I shoulda left with Mihael. Vacating the apartment, I bring the rest of the tequila with me in a jacket pocket and roam the dirty streets of my pitiful "home" colony, listening to music on my MP3 player. "She said some days I feel like shit, I just want to quit, and just be normal for a bit. I don't understand why you always have to be gone.." I sing along quietly (1).

Of course, I find myself staggering to that damn cross street again. It's like my fuckin subconscious wants me here. Walking up to the building, I glare at it. This place was once my home, but it's not anymore. It may look the same on the outside, but my home burned down long, long ago. How dare they rebuild it and give it a new name. I make my way over to the side of the church, and scale up the stone brick façade to the roof.

Making myself comfortable, laying flat on my back, I gaze up at the lights of the other side of the colony. Pulling out my headphones, I play my music from the MP3 players shitty little speakers, and sing more loudly with the new song. "Round here they sing broken hymns. Their prayers flow better when they're soaked in gin.." ...everything sounds better soaked in booze.

I miss the stars. I miss the moon. The view from Earth was breathtaking. Maybe I should go back, fuck this place and all my memories tied to it. "...Closed the Bible a while ago, I need some shots for this sin.." Shave off the rest of my hair, let go of the past. Toss my cross into the void of space, let it float in the empty, vacuum for eternity. Change my name. Duo doesn't feel so right when your on your own all the time. "...And yet, I'm a fool and I stay here. Hope these problems drown themselves, I die in wait here.." Always have been alone without realizing it. Well, not all the time. I had a place, a purpose, a sense of belonging. I need that again.

"...I read the Bible, but I forgot the verses..." Father Maxwell and Sister Helen must be turning in their graves, seeing what a waste of space I've become. Their lessons and their faith that I turned my back on. Accepted the God of any other. "...I got sins that scold like my throat when I hit the bottle.  
And I'm sinking and that's why I keep on drinking. I need a refill, far more than once every weekend..."

I wish I could believe in that all loving God again. Have faith in something good. But my soul is tainted, attached to a malevolent being. "...Spend it all searching for God at the Neon Cathedral..."

Even if I turned back over to that faith, I've killed too many people to ever be forgiven. Lied too many times. Fucked too many people.  
"...Underneath this fragile frame, lives a battle between pride and shame,  
but I've misplaced that sense of fight. This crown of thorns is perched atop my spine, but listen closely as I testify. Dependency has been a thief at night  
thief at night, thief at night..." (2)

I continue singing with each song that plays, getting louder after each gulp from the tequila bottle.

But that song, that goddamn song that feels like it was written just for me, makes me angry.

Lifting my head for the roof floor, I take a swig, hold the bottle up, and yell, "This ones for you asshole!" I get no response.

"Fuck you! You don't exist! And if you did, like hell would you give a wretched soul like me any kind of redemption!" I'm screaming at nothing.

"I wanted to believe in you!" I bellow, sitting up, keeping my eyes fixed on the "sky" above me. "I wanted to believe! And I almost did! But you!" I raise a fist into the air. "You took everything from me!"

My throat constricts, too emotional to speak, yell, scream, at a normal decibel.

"I gave myself over and you took everything! Every fucking person away from me! How can you blame me for turning the other cheek and following another path?!" My voice breaks many times as I scold the clouds above me.

"You were suppose to protect me! Protect the ones I loved! But you didn't! And you made me into a monster!"

Tears fall from my eyes. I take several long minutes to calm and gather myself before the worst case scenario arises again. Motherfuck. There go those blue and red lights. Of course they are, I've been yelling at the sky at the top of my lungs.

"Come down from there," commands a voice over a megaphone. Seriously? Is this how bad my luck is? Dealing with the five-oh two nights in a row? I guess I was singing and talking real fuckin loud for them to notice me up here.

Peering over the edge, I yell that I'm coming down on the left side of the church. At least it's only one cop. The more, the less merrier. Leaving the almost empty bottle of tequila on the roof, I shimmy down and almost fall, twice. Climbing shit, dumb idea to do when you're intoxicated.

On the ground the cop approaches me in the side ally, away from the street, blinding my vision with his flashlight. Raising my hand to block my eyes, I hear that dreaded voice from the other night. "Well, well, well, how are you doin tonight handsome? I see you cut off some of that pretty hair of yours."

A fire ignites in my chest. The demon fighting to come forth.

"I'd hate to take ya in, but this'll cost ya more than last night," his voice drips with lust as he leers at me. Turning off the flashlight, he asks, "How about it? A coupla hours in a motel room will keep ya outta a cell."

I don't think so pig. Shinigami consumes my soul, takes hold of my mind and body. Before he can think, I pull a switch blade from my back pocket and send it flying through the air for his jugular. It lands perfectly in his flesh with a lovely squelching sound. Mr. Piggy falls to the concrete ground, grasping the handle of the blade.

Walking slowly over, I kneel over his panicked frame. "You picked the wrong night to come across me," I whisper, yank the knife from his neck, and watch him bleed to death. His death rattle arouses the darkest part of my soul. Grinning, I watch as the light fades from his nasty eyes.

Shinigami still isn't satisfied though. Plunging the blade repeatedly into his chest and gut, hot red blood splatters back onto me, dousing my hands.

Running out of breath and energy, I stop. Clean the blade. Pocket it. And walk away out of view from his cruiser, so I won't be caught on video. Dumbass shouldn't have approached me in a dark alley.

Stalking back to my apartment, I give no shits for the blood covering me, soaked and caking to my hands. I don't even care that I've taken a life on holy grounds.

Showering off the veil blood, I feel better than I have in ages. Albeit, a little more psychotic, but sated.

It may sound awful, but I sleep that night. And sleep easy. The next day I keep myself busy watching the news. I don't even have the urge to drink yet. Not until that night with Mihael.

Riding the metro to the upper Eastside, I gazed out the window, replaying the previous nights events in my mind. It felt so good to have blood run across my hands again. For the first time in a long time, Shinigami is happy.

We make our way to the small wealthy side of L2.

Goddamn, this place is nice. I've never been here. We enter a luxurious hotel that would belong better on L4. In the room, I'm anxious for a drink. Mihael and his correspondent talk drugs, money. But this is suppose to be party too.

"Where's the booze in this bitch?" I ask Mihael.

A blond chick, with a wild hairdo, bounces out of the restroom.

She grabs the person sitting in the far end of the room, facing a large window, she squeaks in a high-pitched voice, "Heero! Lets have some fun!"

Pulling the hood of the ambiguous figure, I'm met with Heero motherfuckin Yuy's gaze reflected in the window.

My heart plapates past a single beat, every nerve cell heightens into a fiery blaze. I whisper, "Heero.." His name falls from my lips, unwillingly.

Tuning his head over his shoulder, he pierces me with those intense, steel-blue eyes. "Hey Duo," my name sounds so amazing falling from his mouth. "What's up?"

* * *

(1) Where'd You Go - Fort Minor  
(2) Neon Cathedral - Macklemore and Ryan Lewis


	27. Hunting

Surviving on Your Own

Hunting

Making my way to L1 HQ, I'm nervous. I haven't been in space since the end of the war, and I'm unsure of what I'm going to find out about Yuy. The thought of him being involved with some kind of drug operation leaves me feeling uneasy. If he is, I think I just might try to send his head through a wall. A brick wall preferably.

Stalking through the lobby, my shoulder makes contact with a newb who wasn't paying attention to where he was going.

"Watch it, man," the brute scolds me.

If I wore my usual uniform, with all my little badges and shit, this fucker wouldn't talk to me this way. "You watch it, asshole."

"Fuck you, chink. Go back to China."

"Excuse me?" I bellow, anger filing my veins, hands clenching into fists.

He taunts, "You heard me. Chink."

Before I can even think, my fist flies through the air and makes contact with his cheekbone. Bigot bastard falls to the ground and I pounce on him. We scrap until we're dragged apart by surrounding people.

"You're fucking nuts!" The bigot screams at me, wiping blood off his face.

"You shouldn't talk to your superiors like that. I'm a Lieutenant and I can have you fucking fired for what you said to me!"

His eyes widen, face pales, as he stutters, "I-I-I'm so-sorry Lieutenant!"

"Lieutenant Chang Wufei," someone says. Looking over my shoulder, I see Commander Reyes. "Please come with me."

He doesn't seem too happy with me, and I don't blame him.

"I have heard of your notorious temper," he explains. "If I catch you in a fight again, I'll send you back to Une."

In the elevator, I appraise him in the reflective gold doors. Commander Reyes is a lean Hispanic man with a military crew cut, the posture of a soldier.

"Don't reprimand my men like that. No one here is under your direct command unless I put them there. You cannot threaten to terminate anyone," he scolds me in an even voice, but not in a patronizing way. I appreciate that.

"It won't happen again, Sir."

The doors open, and Reyes places a hand between them. "This is the floor Mr. Yuy works on. Go down the hall, and turn right. His office is the last one on the left. Let me know what you find."

I nod, exit the elevator and make my way to Yuy's office. Knocking on the door, there's no answer, and the blinds are drawn shut over a small window to the left side of the door. I open it, and there's no one here. There's two desks, everything's neat and organized, meticulous. A smirk twitches on my mouth. It's so like him. Une has to be wrong about his involvement in this maybe drug stealing bit. But why isn't he here? It's Friday morning, Yuy should be working.

Exiting the office, I stop by the next door which is wide open. A gangly man sits hunched over a keyboard, typing away. I knock on his open door, the thin man looks up nervously, pushing his thick rimmed glasses up on the bridge of his nose. "Can I help you?" He asks in a shaky voice.

Stepping through the threshold, I ask, "Do you know Heero Yuy?"

"Yes," he answers and appears even more edgy.

"Do you know where he is?"

He shrugs, "He hasn't been in since Tuesday, and neither has Noah."

Crossing my arms over my chest, I ask, "Who's Noah?"

"Uhh, Noah Andrews is our partner. We three work in this department. Noah worked in here with me for a while, but moved into Yuy's office a few months ago. I was surprised," he stammers quickly, wringing his hands under his chin.

"Why is that?"

"Why is what?"

"Why were you surprised?"

"Oh, because Mr. Yuy doesn't seem the type to like company. He doesn't exactly have the most sunny disposition." Ha, yeah, I agree. But this guy looks like he scares easy.

"Do you know when they're suppose to be back?"

"Monday, I guess. Noah took yesterday off too. I don't know where they are."

"Thanks," I say. As I'm about to leave, I turn and ask, "What's your name?"

"Randal. Randal Melnikoff."

I return to Yuy's office, and attempt to hack into his desktop. I've never been the computer wiz that he is, so I can't even by pass his password. Returning to Commander Reyes, I tell him I've found nothing, except for Yuy's mysterious absences. He gives me Yuy's and Andrews addresses, and orders me to check on their status. So far, this doesn't feel good.

At Yuy's apartment, I find nothing but a barren place that hardly looks lived in. I had to break in, and I feel like I'm invading his privacy, but there's literally nothing here except a few drawers of clothes. None of them full, same with his closet. Searching his bathroom, I run my hand along the underside of the sink. A fabric bulge is duct tapped underneath. Yanking it loose, I pull out a round black canvas case. Upon opening it, I find the inside filled with needles. Fuck. They don't look used, but why would he need so many?

I leave for Andrews apartment after not finding anymore evidence of anything in Yuy's place. Now his place, this Noah character, is a fucking pigsty. Filthy, clothes strewn everywhere, dirty dishes in the sink , on the countertops, and all over the kitchen table. Molding food plastered to all these deserted plates, bowls, and cups. The large bed in the bedroom looks slept in, and the bronze sheets are covered in sweat stains, and white-ish stains that are indicative of sexual intercourse.

On closer inspection, I find powdery residue on the wooden surfaces of the kitchen table and coffee table in the living quarters, accompanied by thin scratches in the wood façade, most likely from a razor blade. Multiple grooves overlap, creating an abstract form on the exterior of these tables. That foreboding feeling in my stomach gains weight. If Yuy's associating with this person, then that can only mean trouble.

Rummaging through the clothes, I find one small baggie filled with a white substance. I pocket it for testing. There's men's and women's clothing strewn about the bedroom. When I come a cross a green tank top, my heart plummets.

Heero has been here. This is so far from good. What has happened to my comrade? Maybe I'm not the only one who's struggling with this new peaceful era. Winner has been forced out of his position for gambling. Is it such a far-fetched theory that Yuy might be using drugs? If that's the case then what of Barton? What of Maxwell?! I'm no shining example of peace time adjustment. Maybe my former brothers in arms are struggling as much as me...maybe they need me as much as I need them.

My last-ditch chance at finding out where these people are leads me to looting through a desk. A drawer reveals a laptop to me. This isn't Yuy's personal computer because I was able to get past the password in two minutes. Scanning through files, emails, and correspondents, I find that Andrews, Yuy, and a woman named Landi have left for L2 yesterday.

Does this include Maxwell? It is simpler to picture Maxwell involved with drugs than Yuy. Maybe they stayed in contact and Maxwell's dragging Yuy down. It would be so typical of that Baka.

I'm going to have to go to L2, but unfortunately, I have to call Comannder Une first.


	28. Encounters

Surviving on Your Own

Encounters

Firing up the thrusters, Landi, Noah, and I are ready for lift off. Yesterday had been unbearable and today isn't much better. I spent most of the day high, in the shower, repeatedly scrubbing my skin until it reddened and rawed. Kept my bruised and scrapped body covered with a gray turtle neck, and black jeans. Filled my veins every time I started to have some sort of flashback to the night before. I don't want to put the pieces together. I don't want to know what happened. I just want to forget.

Landi knows something is wrong. Every time she tries to touch me, I flinch and pull away. Noah seems suspicious of me too, but neither of them have said anything.

Flying out of the gate, and into the dark, cold void of space brings a sense of relief that I can feel deep down to my bones. Landi squeaks in excitement in her spacesuit, she's never left L1 before. Once we get a safe distance away, I tell her to unbuckle her seatbelt and float about in zero g.

"Oh my God! This is fucking amazing!" She screams as she spins two feet off the crafts floor. Seeing her this ecstatic brings a smile to my face, but it only lasts a second before its gone.

I've missed space, missed flying. Piloting a spacecraft will never compare to flying Wing Zero though. Right now I wish I had died back in the war...with some ounce of fucking honor and dignity.

"Hey Landi?"

She grins at me, floating about. "Yeah babe?"

"Can you play that song I like?" I ask. "The robotish sounding one, that's by that weird band."

"Oi, for the hundredth time, that weird band is called Radiohead. And I swear, you're the only person who likes to listen to Fitter Happier," she giggles as she plays the song.

This is one of the many bands she has shown me that I like a lot. And I don't know why I like this weird song so much, but I do.

"Calm, fitter, healthier, and more productive. A pig in a cage, on antibiotics," I say under my breath in time with the lyrics. The rest of the album goes on to play as I listen, gazing out at the stars.

_...Walking up the dark staircase to the roof, leaning heavily on the guy whom I shared a cigarettes with..._

Fuck! No! I need something to take my mind off this shit, but I can't shoot up just pure H here. Too dangerous, I need to be conscious to pilot this thing. My skin begins to crawl, feels like spiders walking all over me. I wish I could shower right now, I feel fucking filthy. Setting the craft on autopilot, turning the gravity back on, I walk to the back of the ship where all Noah's product is stored in three metal suitcases. Rifling through the shit, I don't know what I'm looking for.

Noah comes up behind me. "Whatcha need?" He sounds concerned.

"I don't know. Something to keep me up, but that will also make me feel good, I don't know, just something," I stammer out quickly, sounding panicked even to myself.

"Alright, alright. Here I know what will help," he soothes and pulls out a baggie of white stuff that I'm assuming is coke. "What's up with you? You've been all jumpy and shit since the party the other night. Did something happen?"

I shake my head. "No, nothing happened. I just blacked out and I need something to take some of the edge I'm feeling off."

Noah instructs me to take a line off one of the closed suitcases. It hits fast, and this is not cocaine, it feels better than coke.

"What is this?" I ask breathily as I breathe in sharply through my mouth.

"Meth," he states and snorts a line himself.

Body trembling, my teeth clatter a bit, and my brain feels like it's on fire in an amazing way. "Cut me another line," I order him.

"This isn't shit you wanna over do it on, man," he tells me.

That's the dumbest thing I've heard from him. Don't over do it? Like I'm not already over doing it with fucking heroin? Goddamn idiot. "Just fucking cut me another line," I growl, glaring at him.

"Okay, okay."

Noah does it, and the second line feels better than the first. I can do this now. I'm okay now. We go back to our seats, I buckle up and turn the gravity back off for Landi, she's really enjoying floating around. Turning off the autopilot, I clutch the controls, floor it through space on the crafts fastest speed. We're going to L2, and the thought of that gives me that nervous butterfly feeling in the pit of my gut. Thinking about Duo makes me happy, and angry. I won't be seeing him, but it's nice to think we'll be on the same colony for a short while. Keeping on that train of thought, I keep the negative memories from my mind.

We finally make it to L2, and take shelter in a very, very nice hotel room. I didn't think these types of establishments existed on spaces poorest colony. I had never been to this area during the war.

Sitting in a chair facing the large window, I stare out to a world that's much like L1. There really isn't much architectural difference between the colonies, just scenery of lights and building across a large loop of metal with fake clouds and weather systems in the space between each end.

People come in, Noah's clients, and I sink further into the cushioned chair I'm perched in. First thing I did when we got here was snort a fat line of H. The meth left me feeling itchy and paranoid. Pulling on the strings, I tighten the hood of my black zip up jacket tighter. I don't want to be here. I want to higher, and alone, or at least with just Landi. I feel safe with her. She cares so deeply for me, like Relena. I miss her. I miss them all.

Ignoring the conversation going on behind my back, I keep my eyes peeled to the floor, staring at the intricate, gilded carpet.

My focus is brought back when I hear a familiar rugged voice. "Where's the booze in this bitch?" He says.

Oh God...holy shit...it's him...

Hands grip my shoulders, pull my back flush to the chair. I'm frozen. Pulse racing, heart thumping, heat flooding my entire form, I clench my toes in my sneakers, they crack. I clench my fingers into fists, they crack. Locking my knees flat to my chest, they pop. My whole body tenses at the sound of his voice in a terrible, happy, scared, unfamiliar way.

"Heero! Lets have some fun!" Landi squeals, pulling my hood down off my dome.

Lifting my eyes, I see Duo's reflection gazing shocked, wide-eyed at me in the reflection in the window.

"Heero..." He whispers.

Turning my head, I meet his gaze dead on. He looks different, taller, broader, hair shorter. I'm surprised by the latter.

"Hey Duo, what's up?"


	29. Tracking

Surviving on Your Own

Tracking

You would think tracking the former CEO of the galaxies most profitable business would be fairly easy. Well, you're wrong. Quatre's just as good as slipping through the cracks as the rest of us, but he's bound to turn up somewhere. Such a familiar face can only go unnoticed for so long. Iria is worried sick, and I'm not much better. I haven't slept since I got here.

Quatres driver, Hank, told me he dropped Quatre off at the shuttle port after he picked him up from Winner Enterprises. I called the Maganac group in the Middle East and spoke with Rashid. He told me Quatre's not there, and that he's extremely worried about him. He'll call me if he hears from him, or if he shows up. I was hoping Quatre would escape to the Maganacs, they're like a second family to him, but he must be so ashamed that he's gone off the grid.

I tracked the digital records of where he has taken his craft to. There's a stop to L1. There's no record of whether he has left the colony, he could have gotten out undetected if he wanted to. His financial accounts show that he has withdrawn all his money. If I were him, I would have stopped there, extracted all my money from one bank, and left immediately for a new place. I may have to go to L1 to find out.

I do my best to alleviate Iria's fears over the weekend before I leave for the L1 cluster. My own troubled thoughts keep me from sleeping. I nod off for short bouts of time, like before. The shuttle ride allows me some reprieve, and I actually pass out for two and a half hours on the flight. After that little nap, I break into Preventer files on my laptop.

Once we land, I meander through the shuttle port, looking at a map on my cellular device. I've hacked some Preventer files, and I've found that Heero is stationed on this colony. I need his help.

Using a separate prepaid cell, I call Heero's number that the Preventer files offered me. No one answered, and I didn't leave a message. There was no answer to Heero's apartment, and breaking in revealed that no one has been living here for a while. I'd like to say the empty, unlived in state of his residences surprised me, but it doesn't. His apartment gives off the impression of a lonely existence that goes hand in hand with his stoic persona. I had hoped he'd be happier, more well-adjusted than this. Anyways, he's not here and I have no idea where to find him. If he's not home on a Sunday afternoon then he's probably on an assignment.

Finding a small bistro restaurant, I order a salad, find a vacant table on the patio, and break out my laptop again. I have a feeling that Une has been keeping tabs on all of us, so there has to be buried files on Quatre. While eating, I find nothing on Quatre that I already didn't know.

Someone has the audacity to sit at my table. Looking up, I see a familiar blond woman seated across from me, and her blond friend standing behind her whom appears very uncomfortable.

I glare at the forked eye brow woman across from me.

"Excuse me, Trowa Barton?" Her friend asks.

"Yes."

"May we sit with you? I don't know if you remember me, but I'm Syl-"

"I remember you just fine Mrs. Noventa. Go ahead and sit. Ms. Catalonia already has."

Dorothy gifts me with a devil-may-care grin. Sometimes I wish it wasn't wrong for a man to punch a woman because I'd really like to rearrange her face.

She stabs at her own salad, Sylvia nibbles quietly on her sandwich, and I just glare at Dorothy over my open laptop.

"Why aren't you looking for the disgraced Winner heir on L4?" She asks me with an evil twinkle in her eye.

Fuck you, psycho bitch. "He left L4. I tracked him here."

Sylvia speaks up, "It's so sad that he's been-"

"I saw Mr. Winner not too long ago at soirée at Ms. Relena's estate," Dorothy interjects. "He and I got reacquainted in a very intimate way." She winks at me.

Closing my laptop, and placing it back into my duffel bag, I ask her, "What's that suppose to mean?"

Dorothy giggles, "Oh, you know."

"No, I don't." My eyebrows furrow into a furious scowl.

"We had a private party of our own in a parlor," she outright laughs, and Sylvia blushes. "It was kind of sad though. He lasted less than ten minutes." That wicked grin widens.

Anger and jealousy fill my chest cavity. I don't need her to explain any further to know what she's talking about. Picking up my glass of water, I chuck its contents in Dorothy's face. A shrill, angry cry escapes her mouth.

"Fuck you," I seethe in a whisper, leaning over the table. I stand up and leave. It's not a punch to the face, but it'll suffice.

Out on the main streets, I'm stopped by a hand grasping the inside of my elbow. Halting, I turn to face Sylvia Noventa.

"I'm sorry!" She bursts. "I don't understand why Dorothy enjoys pushing people like that, but I feel I must apologize on her behalf."

"You don't have to apologize to me for anything, Ms. Noventa, but thank you."

I turn to leave and continue down the street to I don't know where yet.

"I hope you find him!" She yells after me.

Me too...


	30. This Wouldn't Have Happened

Surviving on Your Own

This Wouldn't Have Happened

Leaving without my money was a hasty mistake on my part. Jesus, another mistake on top of so many. With no plans on where to travel, I docked at L1 to withdraw all my money. I left the colony in the dead of night after that. I'm trying to not leave a trace, but it's not as easy as it was in war times. Go figure.

One hundred million in cash on hand, I depart for Mars. I would like to go to the big blue planet, but that would be too obvious. The terraform project is almost completed, and there are small towns inside oxygen filled domes that litter a small fraction of the large red planet. Many bands of hoodlums and gangs of "dangerous" men have infiltrated the new Mars settlements. I'm headed for New Vegas. Yeah, it's just like Las Vegas in Nevada, but not so family friendly. It's more like the crime ridden Vegas of the mid twentieth century. Gambling, drugs, booze, and prostitution. I'm fairly excited. Can't wait to gamble away what money I have left. Chase that high.

Before leaving the L1 cluster, I purchases green contact lenses, and buzzed my hair. I still resemble Quatre Raberba Winner, but I'll be assuming a new name soon. I've been thinking of a good anonymous names that won't pull up any red flags, but all I can think of is Trowa Barton. Maybe I'll just use his name. I'm sure he's heard of my failure. I wouldn't be surprised if he's embarrassed or pities me.

I'm still finding it hard to believe that I've fallen this hard. I'm such a blemish to the history changing group that I was once apart of. If I had been strong-willed like Heero, this wouldn't have happened. If I had been as optimistic, and charismatic as Duo, this wouldn't have happened. If I had been as level-headed as Trowa, this wouldn't have happened. If I had been as honor driven as Wufei, this wouldn't have happened.

My God forsaken space heart keeps fighting with me to go back, face my failure, own up to my mistakes, but I just can't. I've tarnished my status and my fathers image enough. I'm the bastard son he should have never created. So weak, I'm so weak.

I need that high that only playing Russian roulette with my money can bring. So weak...


	31. No Matter How Far You Stray

Surviving on Your Own

No Matter How Far You Stray

"If you believe Heero Yuy is on L2 then I want you to go there and hunt his ass down," Commander Une orders me.

"Yes ma'am." I hang up my cellphone. I knew that would be her answer, so I'm already in the waiting area in the space shuttle terminal, biding my time for the next flight to the L2 cluster.

This whole thing is such a fucking mess. That baggie of shit I found at Andrews apartment came back as heroin. Maybe Yuy doesn't know about Andrews participation in this, but that seems highly unlikely. Heero's a smart guy, it is possible that he's gotten himself mixed up with the wrong people. I'll have to stake out Maxwell's place to be sure he isn't connected to this as well.

My flight is announced over the speaker system. Fucking love the red eye.

* * *

Arriving at L2 in the early morning, I make my way to Maxwells' apartment. Very easy to find since he's not on the down low. Unfortunately, all the blinds are drawn, and no one enters or exits the apartment for the three hours I stake it out from the roof top of a neighboring apartment building. I decide to modify my search for Yuy's craft.

Sifting through in logs of docked crafts gets me no where, so I literally visit every port, and every terminal. Racing against the clock, I have no idea when he's planning on leaving this grimy colony, and I need to intercept him before he's gone. I need to know what's going on, what he's doing, before I make the decision to take him in and arrest him.

On the twelfth port, I finally find his spacecraft. Great model, top of the line, wouldn't expect any less. This particular port has the lowest security I've seen yet, postwar. Yuy may have bribed the workers to keep his landing off the report logs. I'm going to have to wait him out. Tomorrow is Sunday and if he wants to be back at work on time he'll have to leave tomorrow afternoon at the latest. I make myself comfortable in a hidden corner of the bunker, and wait.

* * *

Slightly sleep deprived and very hungry, I keep myself alert and sit tight for Yuy's appearance. And late in the afternoon, just like I expected, he enters the bunker, alone.

From a distance, I can see that he's thinner, paler, and on edge, constantly looking over his shoulder. Just as he's about to embark onto the craft I call out his name.

"Yuy!" I bellow, emerging from the darkness. I'm ready if he decides to run. But he doesn't. His blue eyes widen as his gaze lands on my form stalking towards him. "We need to talk."

"Wufei, what are you doing here?" He asks.

"Looking for you," I state, stopping at arm's length before him. Looking over my uniform, I'm sure it dawns on him that I'm here for official Preventer business. "I need to ask you some questions."

Shoulders dropping, stance relaxing, he shows all signs of willingness to speak openly with me. "Ask away."

I'm a little thrown by his openness. "Are you and your partner, Noah Andrews, involved in some kind of drug ring?"

He whispers, "Yes."

My eyes widen. I had suspected, but never believed in a million years that he, fucking Heero Yuy, would travel down that kind of road. I should slap the cuffs on him now, but I need to know, so I ask, "Why?"

"I don't sell," he shrugs. "I just help him out for my supply."

"Supply of what?"

I see a deep sadness in the depths his blue gaze. "Heroin."

Nothing comes from my mouth as I think of a million questions to ask. How? Why? When? He sees me struggling and continues, "I'm a fucking drug addict Wufei. A dope fiend. I'm not...I'm not adjusting to all of this." His arms swing wide through the air. I know what he trying to say, he isn't adapting well to this peace time era.

His gaze falls to the floor between us, his posture featuring that of defeat. I want to tell him, reach out and let him, let him know he's not the only one who's struggling, who's fighting himself to be a better person. We were children, still are, who were thrown into war. Told to fight, to kill, to triumph. For the down trodden colonies, for the rights of others, for peace. And though we can out on top, victorious, I think we scarified ourselves for all those battles.

I can't blame him for falling this way.

"You need to leave," I tell him sternly. He looks up at me surprised. "The Preventers are looking for you, they sent me. If you go now, no one will know we spoke. Go!"

"Thank you, Wufei," he murmurs. He marches up the staircase to the crafts' door.

I turn to leave but before I can, a question that has bugged me since the Eve Wars falls from my mouth. "Why didn't you kill me?"

Heero turns to look at me from the top of the staircase. "What do you mean?"

"During our battle in space and over Earth, why didn't you kill me?"

"Why would I have killed you?"

"I turned my back! I betrayed you all!" I yell. "I allied myself with the Barton Foundation but you didn't kill me when you had the chance."

"I was never going to kill you, Wufei," he placates me in a soft voice. "The concept of friendship is still an enigma to me, but you're my friend, my brother, no matter how far you stray." And with that, he boards his spacecraft.

Walking through the port in a daze, I let Yuy's words sink into me. Apart of me feels the forgiveness, the redemption, that I've been looking for. I now know that two of my four comrades have pardon my mistake. A weight has been lifted, knowing that I'm not seen as a traitor in their eyes, but I know I still have to forgive myself. But can I do that? One achieves honor, dignity, integrity by standing by their morals, their beliefs.

Sauntering outside, the cool fresh air - not as fresh as Earth air - hits my lungs at full force. That light, tingling feeling feels even better out here.

Suddenly, I'm hauled backwards by both arms. Whipping my head around, I find myself surrounded by Preventer agents.

I scream, "What the fuck?!"

I'm heaved into the back of a squad car before I can break free. Punching and kicking at the doors and windows get me no where. I'm so fucking pissed, why the hell are they doing this to me?

Commander Une slides into the front seat. I stare at her in disbelief, gazing past the wired mesh that separates us.

Taking deep breaths, I ask, "Une, what's going on?"

She looks solemnly back at me. "We're arresting you, Wufei."

What the fuck? "Why?" I scream.

"We believe you are in cahoots with Heero Yuy in this drug debacle," she explains.

"You're wrong!"

"We've been tracking you since you left Brussels. There's a hidden microphone sown into your jacket. We heard your conversation with Yuy," she elaborates. "And personally, I can't fathom why you would let him go after he confessed unless it was all an intricate plan to throw us off."

"You're insane, you fucking cunt!" My anger gets the better of me.

"We're taking you in Chang Wufei, whether you like it or not."

My fingers lace through the mesh gundanium wire, leaning forward, I hawk a fat wad of spit into her face. My saliva drips from the grate between us, but I managed to hit between the eyes.

"Fuck you," I effervesce, fingers curling around the metal, eyes ablaze, boring holes into her.

She wipes the spittle from her nose bridge. "Lieutenant Change Wufei, you are under arrest for conspiracy to conspire in an illegal drug operative. You have the right to remain..."

I block out the rest of her words as I lean back in my seat. This is fan-fucking-tastic.

I'm cuffed, and transported back to L1 under heavy guard duty. I don't pay much attention to my surroundings or the journey back to the L1 cluster. There's a few options available to me at this point. One, I rat Yuy out, claim my innocence. Two, I deny anything and everything. Three, I don't say shit and let them believe what they want.

At Head Quarters on L1, Commander Reyes drags me into an interrogation cell. He gives me a sympathetic look, and usually that would make me angry, but since it's coming from a former soldier, it doesn't. And I don't care what faction he's from. He knows the life of a warrior.

Seconds later, Lady Une enters the room. Fuck her, she's not my Commander anymore.

"Lieutenant Chang, would you please explain the nature of your relationship with Heero Yuy?" She asks, opening a file on the table.

I don't answer. "Can you explain to us why you let him go free after making contact? After he expressed his guilt in the situation we've been investigating?"

Again, I don't answer. "Chang Wufei, are you going to reply to any of our questions," she asks, glaring daggers into me. I can almost see a glimpse of the Lady Une who worked under Treize Kushranada. My lips stay sealed.

"Alright Chang, we are going to place you in a holding cell until we know what to do with you."

Commander Reyes says not one word to me through the entire interrogation, but his facial expression tells me he knows why I'm keeping quiet. Knows the value camaraderie.

For the first time in the era of peace, I find myself locked in a cell. Sleeping for an unknown amounts of time in a windowless cell, I keep myself numb, not willing to think. I get more rest than I have in a long time, and I'm sure it's been only one, maybe two days. I'll surely go insane locked up like this.

Just as I'm about to drift off for the unknownth time, a person walks through the block way, silent footsteps fall, almost unnoticeable. They stop before my cell. I turn and look, a tall agent stands between me and the bars. I don't care to see his face. Rolling back over, I close my eyes.

"Wufei," a familiar voice soothes. "Would you like to get out of here?"


	32. Fading into Darkness

Surviving on Your Own

Fading into Darkness

"Hey Duo," I murmur. "What's up?"

His violet eyes pierce me with a disbelieving expression.

"You know my man Heero?" Noah asks Duo, slapping him on the back of his shoulder.

"Yeah, we go way back," Duo whispers. Noah gives him and I a suspicious look. Noah knows, or think he knows, that I'm a Gundam pilot. He has no idea of my ties to Duo, but he's skeptical.

Climbing on my lap, Landi chimes, "Hee-kun is one of my luv bugs!"

I can't tear my eyes away from him, he's looking at me like he's seeing a ghost. He looks so different, in a good way. I would have never thought he would gain so much height. His body is forming into that of an attractive man, more so than the boy I knew. Even the shorter hair is a nice touch. It flows in chestnut waves around his face and torso. Dear God, I knew I was attracted to him before, but goddamn.

Our staring match comes to an end as Noah passes him a green bottle of something. Turning his back to me, he swallows a large gulp. My eyes fall solemnly back into Landi's face. Tilting her head, she runs a soft hand down the side of my face, gently avoiding the bruises, seeing the sadness that surrounds my air.

Leaning in close, resting her forehead against mine, she whispers playfully, "How about we get fucked up and dance the night away?"

Nodding, that sounds good. We stand and surround the short dresser in the hotel room, my gaze keeps fluttering back to Duo, whose violet eyes find mine more often than not.

"Whaddya want baby?" Landi mumbles in my ear.

Leering into her big hazel eyes I respond, "Something up, something great."

"Okay," she winks. "But none of that meth shit," she mutters. "Tonight, we roll in the snow." Code words for meaning we're going to roll on ecstasy and snort cocaine, wink wink, the snow.

Shifting to the other people in the room, Landi waves a small baggie with capsules inside. "Who wants to party?" She squeaks excitedly, shashaying her shoulders.

Noah and three other guys and two girls whoop, all except for Duo. Our eyes once again make contact as I place the pill in my mouth, swallowing it with a shot of vodka. Complete astonishment graces his face, making his eyes widen again in amazement. I bet he's not happy with me part taking in this little drug induced adventure.

After ingesting the X, we inhale a few lines of coke. Again, I notice Duo is the only person in the room who doesn't participate. He just sucks on a bottle of whatever, nervously. I over do the coke a little, snorting four lines in twenty minutes. Ecstasy takes thirty to forty five minutes to kick in, and I don't want to wait to be blitzed again.

Landi cranks up some hardstyle techno music, and pulls me to dance with her. In minutes I find myself surrounded by all the females present, undulating against me. Two of the guys join our dance party, Duo and an orange haired dude stick close to Noah, talking money, I assume. Duo and I consistently make eye contact as the minutes pass. I think we're both a little more than shocked to see each other.

My high picks up momentum as I move about, swaying, jerking, flowing to the music. My skins tingles, perspiration seeps from my pours, every cell sings. My body temperature increases into an almost unbearable state, I lick my lips, mouth dry, I feel good.

With my eyes closed, I've almost forgotten Duo's presence until Landi murmurs in my ear. "You wanna make that hot friend of yours jealous?"

I nod, smirking, "Yeah, I do." She turns, and bounces her booty in the air. I grind up behind her, grasping her soft curvy hips so we move together. Bending at the waist, she pushes her rump into my crotch and twerks provocatively. We continue our bump and grind dance until she's got her arms thrown around my neck, circling our midsections together.

A tap at my shoulder, and I glance over and catch Duo's eyes. I stop dancing and turn to face him. "You wanna grab a smoke with me outside?" He asks. His usually animated face is a blank stare, but the energy wafting from him tells me he's mad.

"Yeah," I yell over the music. "Just gimme a sec." I push pass him to the dresser. Cutting enough coke for two lines, I ask him if he wants any. He shakes his head and I use a rolled ten-dollar bill to snort the fat line I've cut. It's a lot, but I figure I'm gonna need it for where this conversation might be headed.

Jumping on the balls of my feet, I tell him, "Lead the way." Eyeing me dubiously, he walks out of the hotel room and I follow. We walk up one fight of stairs to the roof.

I watch as he takes a long gulp from a flask."Gimme a swig." It almost sounds like one word, but he understands me through my high fast paced communication.

Handing me the bottle, his violet eyes still appraise me in an unsure way. Mmm, fuck its tequila. Like the shit, but don't love it. I hand the bottle back.

"When'd you start using?" He asks, taking a large swallow from the bottle.

Shrugging, I don't care to answer. It's none of his business. "When you cut your hair?" I rebuttal.

He smirks, "Very recently." He's quiet for a moment before he says, "You're different. I can't tell if it's good or bad."

My teeth rattle together, not from the cold, but from the drugs. "You seem different too," I respond. He's not just different physically, I may not have Quatre's space heart, but I can sense a dark energy when there's one around. Lizard brain and all. Those strange colored eyes lack a certain life, the laughter they once held.

It's quiet for a while as he lites a cigarette and smokes. Passing it to me, he asks more questions. "That weird looking chick your girlfriend?"

"No, just a friend...How's that Schiebeker girl?" I want to take back the words as soon as they leave my mouth. I knew he had been working with her, but I really don't want to know whatever kind of relationship they may have.

"Hilde? Ah well, she was my girl, but we broke up recently."

Again, the word vomit. "What happened?"

"I'd rather not talk 'bout it," he says with a grimace. Eyeing me again with suspicious violet orbs, he belittles, "Never would have thought you'd be a drug user, Yuy. Gotta say I'm pretty disappointed."

Livid. That makes me fucking livid. He doesn't know what I've been doing or going through since the war ended. Maybe he would have if he had stayed in contact. "Fuck you," I fume.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, Fuck. You. You don't know me or my life. You're not a part of it anymore! And that's all your fucking fault!"

"My fault? How the hell is it my fault?" He yells, stepping close to tower over me.

Shoving him back, I holler, "You said you would come see me, or something like that! So I waited! I waited for you to call, to show up, to fucking email me! But you didn't! You promised and it was a lie! So I'll say it again, FUCK YOU!" And with that, I turn and make a hasty exit from the roof.

I've let my emotions get the better of me again. I can't deal with this. Can't deal with him, and not what...what happened. Thinking about it gives all the bruises, scrapes, and welts life. I can feel the pain consuming by body like a fire. The filth, I need to shower off again. Why'd he have to be here? Why now? Why _everything_?

I'm trembling violently as I push my way back into the hotel room. I need a hit. I need one now. I need it bad. I find my duffel and drag it into the bathroom, no body from the little party notices me. I go through the process of cooking as fast as I can with quavering limbs. But finally it's done.

Injecting it into my blood, it hits fast. Too fast. And I know I've over done it this time. But I don't care. Warmth, happiness, is all I feel. The pain has disappaited. Sucked down further and further, I think my time is up. I should be scared, panicked even. But I'm not. If this is my time to die, then so be it...my world fades to black.


	33. Ghost

Surviving on Your Own

Ghost

Something eats away at my insides, telling me to check the Preventers database again until I finally cave and do it. Lack of sleep, restless, jitty as my hands shake. I can feel myself coming undone at the seams. Drinking alcohol might put me to rest, but I would have to consume a lot of it to knock me on my ass. Tempting as it sounds, booze would only end up being a distraction from my goal. Finding Quatre.

Shifting through all the Preventer files doesn't get me anything more information than I had before.

Gazing out the tiny motel window, I watch the street across the way as people pass on by. They all appear so relaxed and uncaring. I wish I could feel at ease again. A movement in the corner of my room caughts my attention.

Turning my eyes fall on the object of my desire seated in a chair, one leg folded over the other, smirking at me.

"Quatre..." I whisper.

He grins. "Hello Trowa."

I heard no one come in, and I know he can't really be sitting in front of me, it's too good to be true. My sleep deprived mind has to be hallucinating.

But regarless, I speak to him. "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to see you," he responds, relaxing further in the ratty cushioned chair.

I feel my shoulders slump and a warmth spread through my chest. "I've missed you."

"I miss you too," he tells me and his eyes sparkle.

"Where'd you go?" I ask.

His blue eyes dim, his smile faulters and he shakes his head. "I don't know. I'm lost."

That warmth in my heart dissapates, a coldness consuming. "I am too," I whisper. "But I think if I can find you, I can find me too."

Gazing out the window, Quatre informs me, "I'm not the only one you need to find."

I feel my brows pinch together confused. "What do you mean?"

He points a slender finger, aimed over my shoulder. I turn and look at my computer. Is there something in this database that I'm suppose to see? "I don't know what you mea-" my sentence is cut short as I realize he's gone. Evaported into thin air. Why do you keep leaving me, Quatre?

Somberly, I return to clicking away through files on top of flies, trying to look for what he wants me to find. If he isn't the only one I'm to search for, than who else? Coming across the incarceration list, I find a man who - in my opinion - doesn't belong there. Well, Quatre, I've found what you wanted me to, and now I'll do something about it.

You would think an Agency as big and important as the Preventers would make it difficult to get inside, but either they need to up their secruity, or I'm just that good. After nonchalantly walking into their parking gargage, I wait in the shadows, in the darkest corner away from any and all survalliance cameras. Waiting for the right person. I need a male agent close to my height, and when he finally walks by, I grab him by his jacket collar, haul him backwards, and place him in a sleeper hold. Five seconds and it's lights out. Deftly changing our clothes, I don his uniform, and leave the man in my clothing seated upright in the dark corner hidden by a large black SUV.

Checking the name tag, I'm now Mike Anderson. I swip his lamenated tag through the access panel and the door swooshes open. Inside in five minutes flat, not bad. An old familiar adreline kicks in and I feel like I'm on top of my game for the first time in a while. I've always been so great at playing "ghost", I almost forgot how exhiliarting it can be.

Before I left my dingy little motel room, I studied the layout of the building via their hidden encrypted files, so I know I'm headed for the basement. In the elevator, I stand stock still with my wrists behind my back, a soldiers stance. It decends quickly, and as I exit, I'm faced with a guard seated behind a plate glass window.

He doesn't even bother to look up as he asks, "Which prisoner?"

"Prisoner C-5-9-9-W."

"Sign the form," he instructs me, eyes still glued to his crossword puzzle. I sign a big fat 'X'. This way when they realize we're gone, they'll know who to blame. They should really have more reliable people employed here.

The guard buzzes me through, and I walk on soft feet through the corridors in search of a particular cell. When I find it, my intended target looks at me briefly before rolling back over to face the wall.

"Wufei," I say in a low voice. "Would you like to get out of here?"

I see his body tense on the bed, and then he slowly rolls over. His face is astounded. "Barton?" he harshly whispers.

I nod my head. I can tell he's having a hard time making sense of this, of why I'm here. Also, that "honor" crap that he lives by is probably telling him he should stay locked up and deal with his perdicament on his own, but I'm not going to let that happen. Pulling out a few picking tools from my - or rather Mike's - pocket, I begin to dislogue the lock.

"Don't do that!" He seethes quietly, jumping from the bed. "They have sensors on them that will go off when being - " the lock clicks and I push the bar door to the side. "- tampered with...huh...Guess I was wrong."

A small chuckle escapes my throat. "No, I'm just that handy. Let's go."

"We can't just walk out of here!" Wufei's fist clench at his sides, and he hasn't even cross the cell's threshold to freedom yet.

I place a gentle hand on his shoulder and pierce his brown eyed gaze with my stern glare. "If you follow my lead, it will be that easy."

Turning, I walk away. I get maybe five feet ahead of him before he starts walking. Once he's caught up to me, I tell him to stick close and act like nothing is out of the ordinary. As we pass the guard, I can feel his anxiety heighten, but once we're in the elevator he lets out a sharp exhale, as if he were holding his breath.

Without turning to look at him, I say, "You're doing fine. This is easier than you think. Easier than it should be." He doesn't say anything, but in the shiny silver closed doors, I see his reflection nod, trusting me to help him.

Composedly marching through the halls and past busy agents, I have to fight the smirk that twitches at the end of my lips. Exiting through the same door I came in through, we're one step closer to freedom. I can tell Wufei's wanting to make a break for it, sprint to the end and out of sight, but we have to remain inconspicuous.

Rounding the corner, and we're on the sidewalk. Out of the parking garage. Out of HQ. Again, he lets out a lofty sigh.

"I told you it was easier than you thought."

"Yeah," he agrees, "A little disheartening, if you know what I mean."

"Were you wanting a fight before breaking out? Guns blazing."

"No, but I expected someone to try to stop us."

"When you're a ghost, no one sees you until you're long gone."

We make it back to the motel, and begin a lengthy discussion. He tells me why he was locked up. Shocked doesn't really put my mood into perspective. Heero's involved in some kind of drug conspiracy and Une accused Chang fucking Wufei as a co-conspirator? And they think Duo's apart of it all too? Well, fuck me sideways. This is a mess. We are a mess. Can't function in the world we fought for, how pathetic. I can't tell if I'm more sad, angry, or just plain disappointed about Heero. Come on, heroin? Oh how the mighty have fallen. And it's not just him, but all of us. Wufei can't tell me much on Duo's possible collaboration, he never saw our braided comrade.

He tells me of his issues with his anger, fight clubs, and attacking his therapist. I tell him of my insomnia, lack of appetit, and how I was rarely talking in the past few months. My apethetic nature. Though maybe not so apethetic anymore. He knows of my accident at the circus, and kindly tells me I look like shit. That I already know; bags under my bloodshot eyes, skin pale, and I'm on edge. How could I not look all kinds of fucked up?

"And then there's that whole debcle with Winner," Wufei adds, rolling his eyes.

"I need to find him," I inform.

"Why? Winner's a big boy, he can take care of himself."

"Because Wufei, don't you think he needs some kind of help just like you did?"

He shrugs. "I guess."

"Will you help me?" I ask on the verge of pleading.

His brown eyes roam over the room, chews on his bottom lip. "Well, it's not like I can go back to my job."

A grin breaks out on both of our faces and we chuckle. I extend my hand. "It's nice to be working alongside you Chang."

He shakes my hand. "Back at you, Trowa."

"There's one thing I need you to do for me first."

Cocking an eyebrow, he asks, "And what would that be?"

"I haven't slept in days," I explain. "I need you to knock me out."

He stands. Cracks his knuckles. I only feel a brief moment of pain before falling in to sweet, sweet unconsciousness.


	34. Paying for It

Surviving on Your Own

Paying for It

Landing on Mars in a shady hanger, I pay the owner one million bucks in cash to keep my craft off the books. I can tell that he wants to question who I am and why I have so much money on hand, but he keeps quiet, not wanting to push it with me. Which is good, I've been practicing my "Heero Glare", a fun weapon that says "back the fuck off and don't ask questions".

"Alright, Trowa Barton, you're ship is safe here," the fat hanger keeper soothes and takes the backpack full of money. It's somewhat strange hearing someone call me by his name, but I like it as well.

After I take another backpack of one million, I lock my aircraft up with the best security renforcements money can buy. No one will be able to break in and steal my shit. They'll be electrocuted if they try.

Half an hour later and I've got myself a decent room in a midlevel luxury hotel. Why not indulge a little in the finer things while I'm going rogue? But not too fine to draw any attention, besides I don't need all the fancy smancy things people think I need. Being a "Winner" comes with a certain stigma, and I don't require all the extravagances that come with that name.

A little over an hour later and I'm roaming through the casino. Flashing lights, high pitched chinging noises, and jovial laughter flutter about as I walk through the cigarette and cigar smoke filled gambling area. Sitting a black jack table, I order a gin and tonic from a skantally clad waitress and begin to chase the high I lust after.

Round after round and I'm up, a little tipsy and feeling better than I have in a long fucking time. Changing scenes I try my hand at Texas Hold 'em, roulette, and a few slot games. The slots I don't care for so much, I like games involving other people. Besides, poker is my all time favorite so I wrap the night up with that.

While I'm up three grand, I notice a lean brunette man learing at me from one of the slot machines. Attempting to ignore him doesn't help much, I can feel the weight of his brown eyed gaze on me. Looking back at him, he winks at me. I blush and he grins.

I finish my game, collect my money and walk towards the elevators, but not before I give the brunette a silent signal for him to follow me. The beautiful man follows my lead. On our way up to my floor he confirms, "It's eight hundred for the whole night." Finished with a wink.

The troubled feeling in my stomach and heart told me he may be a prostitute. I shouldn't pay for sex, but...I want it...want the physical connection with another..._man_. My mind rages with me as I admit that fact. I shouldn't want to be with a man in an intimate setting, but I can't help it. I want to see his body. Touch it. Taste him.

Though the alcohol has lessened my inhibitions, it still feelings wrong...but right? How can this feel right?

We enter my room, and I hang my head low, conflicted with myself. The 'Pro' senses my unease and pulls me lightly at the wrist further into the bedroom.

"Don't worry sweatheart," he soothes. "We don't have to do anything you're not ready for." He winks. I begin to remove my shirt with my eyes focused on the ground.


	35. Gone in the Morning

Surviving on Your Own

"You said you would come see me, or something like that! So I waited! I waited for you to call, to show up, to fucking email me! But you didn't! You promised and it was a lie! So I'll say it again, FUCK YOU!" And with that, Heero turned and made a hasty exit from the roof.

Crestfallen, I feel like the world's biggest piece of shit. I had wanted to call him, hear his voice, but I was too scared. He'd left with Relena, and I felt like I had lost some unspoken war for his affection. If I had known that he'd been waiting, I would not have let a day go by without talking to him.

This reflection makes me turn my mental gaze inward...he deserves much more than the likes of me for a friend. A patheic alcoholic, sex addict, loser!

Finishing my smoke, I flick it off the roofs edge and run my hands through my now "shorter" hair. I groan loudly, pissed off, self loathing, and depressed all wrapped in the burrito that is me.

I consume a few more long chugs from my flask. It's empty. I want more. But first I gotta talk to him. Tell him he's right and I'm a giant asshole for going back on my word.

When I get back into the room, I pour more whiskey into my flask and search the room for Heero. He's no where in sight, but the bathroom door is closed and I can see the light shining from underneath it. Knocking on the door, I get no answer. I pound louder and call out his name, but he still doesn't answer. At this point, I ram my fist so hard against the wooden panel that it dents under my force and yell, "Heero fuckin' Yuy! Open the goddamn door!" But still nothing. Pressing my ear to the white painted wood surface, I can't hear anything. Not a single sound. No running water, no shuffling, no nothing.

Beginning to panick, I rattle the doorknob but it doesn't budge. I ask his freaky girlfriend if she's seen him, in hopes that he isn't the person in the locked restroom. She denies my hopes, plummeting them to the floor. Back at the door, I don't give a fuck anymore and ram my shoulder against the wood. Three shoves and it gives, cracking and splintering under my brute force.

The door snaps open, violently banging against the wall and I'm faced with a dredding sight. My breath hitches in my throat and I hear gasps from behind me. I'm into much shock at the sight before me to act, but my brain registers the panic behind me, people yelling, everyone leaving, a female voice screaming, "We can't leave him like this!"

Front door slamming shut with a loud _bang_, jolts me back into action.

Heero's pale. Sprawled on the bathroom floor. Needle in his arm. Lips blue. Unmoving.

A surge of adernaline lunges me forward. Kneeling over his placcid form, I slap his face with all my force and scream, "WAKE UP!"

I continue to smack his face, yelling. My mind tears into two thought processes. One, too petrefied to understand what's going on. Two, knows exactly what's going on and that I only have a limited amount of time to save Heero.

Forgoing the face slapping, I clamp my mouth around his, pulling his bottom jaw down, and breathing hastily into his lungs. Three deep breaths and I push myself up. Vigoriously pump his stern.

"BREATH DAMNIT!"

Clutching his nose shut again, I squeeze his jawbone to breath back into his lungs and repeat the CPR process frantically. Please, please, please, don't die on me now! I keep at it. Longer than most medical emergency presonal would. But I can't stop. He can't die. I can't stop. This is Heero! I can't stop!

Pounding both open palms against his stern, I can't stop my agiated eyes from taking in his blank face. And it's just that. Blank. Soft as if he were consumed in slumber. No pink lively pink to his cheeks. Lips a dark purple. No sign of life.

"PLEASE!" I beg again. Only I'm not pleading with him, I'm panhandling the God I forsake. "GIVE HIM BACK! PLEASE! I'LL DO WHATEVER YOU WANT!"

The third force down on his chest cavity and I hear and feel the bone break under my force. I've broken his stern and now he's gone...

I shove one more time against the severed bone, helpless, pathetic, hopeful.

A sharp gasp that doesn't come from my mouth rings through my ears and I snap my eyes up to Heero's face to witness his blue orbs open. Round and terrified, those beautiful sapphire orbs stare numbly at the ceiling as he continues to breath in.

A choking sob escapes my throat as I haul him up, turn on the shower to its coldest setting, and craddle him in my arms before settling under the frigid spray. I know my ungentle jostling might have disturbed his stern, making it pinch and graze against the organ it's suppose to protect, but I don't care. He's alive! He's fuckin' breathing in my arms! And he's FUCKING ALIVE!

Heero coughs and chokes under the harsh water pletting against us, shivering and attempting feebly to get out of the tub. I refuse to let him go. "Sit still," I whimper in his ear as tears of gratitude fall from my eyes. His body laxes in my arms, shoulders sagging, head falling to rest on in the crook of my neck, and I can't fight the sobs anymore.

Tightening my hold under his ribcage, I cry loudly, muffling my face in his dark hair. I can't even find the words that I need to say.

The feeling of a gentle hand touching my wrist only makes me grip tighter to the person I hold.

"I'm sorry," he mutters.

I shake my head against his head. "No! I'm sorry! This all my fa-f-f-ault!" I cry. "Forg-g-ive me."

Two hands weakly grasp the arm I have strewn around his neck. Fingers gently rubbing against my forarm. "It's not your fault."

Draggin his limp body out of the shower, I find a forgotten shirt between a bed and the window. Perfect. Tearing it at the seams, I use to to bandage his chest together so be in extreme discomfort on our ride back to my place. I'm not going to leave him here, and we are not going to stay. I will take care of him the way I used to when we were fighting a loosing battle.

The bus ride back is bumpy, and I have him spladed over the plastic backseat to rest his head in my lap as our venture continues. Once we disembark the public transit, I have him lean heavily against me. I would have carried him, but Heero and his pride refused to be held like girl. As we walk, the arm he has thrown over my shoulder mingles in my loose hair, pulling painfully on it, but I don't complain.

Awkwardly stumbling into my vacant, sad apartment, I push Heero towards the couch. I have no mattress now, so I'll give him the best sleeping arrangment that I have. He collapses and instantly lulls off to dreamland. I stare down at his peaceful face before removing his clothes. As far as I know, his over dose doesn't involve any other bodily injuries, but old war habits die hard.

Removing his shirt, I gasp loudly. His chest is riddled with bruises, scrapes, and round cigarette burns. I hadn't noticed before, but there are long cylindrical contusions around his neck, every indication of strangulation. Large welts along the side of his chest that don't coinside with the lesions I left from preforming CPR. Patterned marks that are discolored and mirror sneaker imprints. He's black and blue for the collar down. What the fuck happned to him?!

Removing his pants reveals my worst nightmare. More finger prints and hand shaped brusises along his inner thighs. I know it's wrong and invasive, but I spread his legs and tilt my head in hopes of alleviating my trembling fears. But it's there. Fissures, and teared, scarred flesh staring back at me. It's happened to him...but how? This is Heero! How could he be raped? Who could be strong enough to over come him?

The marks on his body tell a morbid story of multiple people struggling to take his will away from him. It's not fair. This is my fault. If I had stuck by his side this would never have happened. I cry quietly as I redress him in my own clothes.

Falling asleep on the wood floor beside the couch, I rest for two hours before fingertips brush softly against my cheek, waking me. My eyes flutter open to find sparkly sad sapphire depths peering down on me.

"Heero..." I whisper.

His face scrunches in a frown, brows pinching together wrinkling the bridge of his nose. He turns his head and looks over his shoulder. I guess he realizes that the couch isn't big enough for the both of us because a moment later he wiggles off the cushions and lays between me the sofa's bottom frame. We don't say anything. He nestles his head under my chin, and I can feel his hot living breath against my neck and collar. I embrace him. Squeeze him tightly.

"I'll be gone in the morning," he tells me.

I nod my head, but I refute, "You can stay for as long as you want."

"I have to go," he whispers.

We let the conversation drop. I keep him wrapped in my arms, the way I've always wanted to hold him.

...When I awake in the morning...I'm alone on the cold floor...


End file.
